Small Favors
by Lnzy1
Summary: [G1]He never wanted to see a world torn apart by their war as his had been...but in a small American town, abandoned, left to ruin and decay after the initial invasion, Bumblebee finds a glimmer of hope for possible redemption in the form of a small child
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's notes:** Hello everyone. I was looking back in my unfinished fanfiction files and found this gem I started a little while ago but stopped because I got wrapped up in another. I'll probably finish it after I am finished with my other fan fic, Collateral Damage. I got inspired to write this story, strangly enough, after reading the TF Mirrorverse fanfic called 'His Mater's voice'. If you're a fan of Bumblebee and Spike stories (not like that you pervs! lol XP) then you may want to hope over to the Mirrorverse site and read around a bit. Great concept with awesome writers. I guarantee an intriguing read at the least. I apologize in advance for any spelling and grammar errors (I love to write but I can't spell!!!! NYA!) But no worries, I'm currently taking an english course that deals with troubled people such as myself. I can't guarantee any regular updates though. I've already explained I have another fic I am currently devoting my attention to and this fic will probably be the first one I pick up after the other's finished. I have about three to four chapters of this already written but I'll spread them out so I'm not leaving you guys hanging for months on end waiting for an update while I finish Collateral Damage._

**_EDIT: This chapter has been replaced with a updated version that has been graciously Beta-read by E_pona Harper!** **_Thank you Epona!_**

_---_

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! I don't plan on adding any OC's to this story, but who knows if a couple might show up later._

_Chapter One: Helping hands. _

_How did it come to this? _Bumblebee sighed mentally to himself. It was pitiful. Everything around them crumbled with every new raid. The enemy was relentless in its siege of this virgin world; they tore everything apart in a mad, starving desperation to get to the energy while the native inhabitants huddled together, wide-eyed and frightened, as their peaceful lives were shattered. He recalled what that had been like…

He had been so frightened when his home city had been destroyed, much like the humans' cities were at that moment. He had been a young bot at the time, not even a full Vorn old. He and one other had been the sole survivors of the rampage; Bluestreak. The memories of that day had changed the Autobot forever. His mind was plagued with regret and anger; not that Bumblebee could blame him. He knew the overwhelming surge of varying emotions were powerful enough to completely take over their minds and turn them mad. However he had managed it, Bumblebee managed to carry no scars of his early life trauma. He only carried the memory; a large burden in and of itself. He had been cowering under a pile of ruble when a large Mech had found him. It was early into the war and the names of those so famous now were relatively unknown, but Bumblebee would always remember that Mech and his name: Optimus Prime.

Bumblebee was still a protoform and had only gone through one upgrade since he'd been brought online. He was considerably taller now then he had been back then, but as a minibot protoform such a small stature was common and to be expected. He remembered how startled he was when he beheld the large and intimidating red Mech for the first time.

_The piece of metal roofing he was hiding under had been lifted up and the small protoform revealed in the eerie glow of the still blazing fires of the city. Surprised optics gleamed as the large Mech crouched down, offering a large hand. And then a voice, deep and smooth, said to him, "It's all right little one. You're safe now."_

_Bumblebee had shrunk away from the offered hand, tiny optics glowing with fear. Optimus sighed and reached down to his subspace compartment, pulling out a flask. The little protoform's optics followed the flask with a hungering stare; knowing full well what it contained. His fuel tank shuttered at the thought of Energon and he received an annoying, warning flash across his vision before he removed the red banner. How long had it been since the life sustaining fuel touched his eager lips? A long time he decided. The raids had made Energon so scarce that rationing was implemented. His creator had done his best to get enough for them both…but there simply wasn't enough and more often then not he went tank half empty while Bumblebee was near full. His creator was gone now…had been for the better part of the last hundred joors or so. He had left Bumblebee alone in the lab while he went to collect rations, but something must have happened…he never returned. After a long while, Bumblebee was forced to venture out alone to scour for fuel or to find his creator; neither presented themselves. _

_Optimus smiled behind his battle mask as he held out the flask to Bumblebee. "Take it…"_

_Bumblebee looked back and forth between the flask and masked figure; the fear of the larger bot and the craving for the Energon were tearing his small processor to shreds. With a small, violent shake of his head as if to clear away his fear, the little Transformer lunged at the flask, pulling it away from the larger being's loose grip, not that Optimus fought for it. Pulling the top off the container, Bumblebee raised it to his lips and began to greedily drain the glowing pink fuel in earnest. Halfway through, Bumblebee let out a small yelp of surprise as the larger bot reached out and picked him up. _

_Sensing the small being's protest at the contact, Optimus placed the little one in the crook of his arm, "Shhhhh…you're alright."_

_The little protoform's processor raced and suddenly froze when he remembered…his creator used to hold him like this._

_He missed him. _

_Realization suddenly dawned on Bumblebee…his creator would never return. He was alone. He stopped struggling against the larger Mech and allowed himself to be carried off. His optics dimmed and he sipped absently at the Energon despite his hunger. _

"_A survivor?" someone said, voice astonished and relieved at once. Bumblebee glanced up into the optics of an equally large, blue mech. His expression was very sad as he gazed at Bumblebee. The little protoform shifted and pushed himself closer to the Transformer that held him; the red one was scary, but the blue was even scarier. _

"_Just a sparkling," Optimus replied sadly. "How goes the rescue effort?"_

"_Not good," the blue robot replied. "Counting this one, we've recovered five functioning, but four deactivated before we could get them to the Medical station. The one survivor we pulled out and is still functioning is being treated by Ratchet as we speak." Blue eyes flickered back to Bumblebee. "What about this little one?"_

"_I'll take him," Optimus replied. "I trust you can handle things until I return?"_

_The blue one nodded. "Of course. Primus be with us."_

_Optimus glanced down sadly at his young charge. "Primus be with _them_…"_

It seemed to have been so long ago. When he looked back now, his first reaction to Optimus seemed silly, but he had been so scared. He had no notion of war at the time; Autobots and Decepticons were words he heard in passing with never an explanation to clarify his curiosity.

Bumblebee sighed to himself again as he passed the remnants of what might have been a gas station. He imagined all the humans gathered around the pumps, filling their vehicles…he imagined where they would go in their vehicles…how they lived their daily lives and how much that had changed in just a few short months since his kind had awoken. At first, the raids started small and discretely but, as confrontations escalated, more humans began to become aware of what was happening, and, much like a cornered animal, they lashed out violently.

So many died during the retaliation strike.

The human armies that faced the Decepticons perished in a blaze of destruction. Any survivors were made examples of and their bodies thrown into a populated area where the resulting pandemonium and panic further destabilized the area, making it much easier to steal the energy. The Decepticons made weekly raids of random cities, never allowing the crumbling human government to adjust and retaliate appropriately. Thousands were displaced as they fled their homes, abandoning full cities to escape the attacks. It became a common sight within the first three months to be driving along and come across a hundred or so humans walking along the road just as it was common to see the bodies of those unable to continue lying on the ground. Bumblebee had seen the elderly and the young suffer such miserable deaths as well as a couple of single parents, their child or children attempting to wake them to no avail. If he wasn't certain the children would be picked up and taken care of by the others, he may very well have attempted to do so himself.

The planet of the humans, Earth as they called it, was geologically divided and the patch of land that saw the first and most Decepticon activity fell easily under the continuous devastation within the first seven months. Their government fell a week after their military was obliterated. There was mass panic and suicide. Hundreds chose to end their lives, some with loved ones, instead of facing the grim future full of alien machines. With the top superpower in ruins, the Decepticons moved their full force across the ocean to Europe where the current bulk of the attacks were occurring.

Bumblebee, along with a few others were stationed at the Ark – the ship that had carried their war to this planet – while the larger group of Autobots went to Europe to aid the humans in defending themselves against the inevitable invasion and destruction that had toppled the United States. Europe was going a lot better then North America had for the Autobots. The European Union had allied themselves with the Autobots and, for the past several weeks, the Decepticons had been pushed farther and farther into East Asia where other human nations were waiting to strike. The last report from Optimus informed the home base Autobots that one of the Seekers, Dirge, had been shot down in East Berlin the previous Earth day and Skywarp had been severely wounded. With one Seeker down and out and another wounded, the sky was suddenly the focus of the efforts with the Autobots scrambling to keep the Decepticons from reclaiming that advantage. Take away the Seekers and the Decepticon's main disadvantage against the ground-bound Autobots was gone and the war could turn for the better.

Bumblebee's morning patrol was always depressing. He noted familiar land markings that dotted his path. The area used to be a small town called Burbank with the city hall and the local church just across the street being the center point. Both buildings had burnt to the ground, and only skeletal walls stood loosely in the windless air. The post office remained mostly intact except for the shattered windows and a partly collapsed roof. The surrounding shops, beauty boutiques, shoe stores, clothe outlets, electronics stores, and a thrift store had all been raided; some of the merchandise cluttered the abandoned streets. Bumblebee had to swerve around the larger items but, for the most part, simply drove over the curious objects, once in a while stopping and Transforming to pick one up and admire it or try to determine what it was used for. He had a small collection of odd objects in his quarters that he had picked up on his patrols.

As he drove past a large building, the largest one in the town to be still standing completely, with a few intact windows, his audios perked at a loud crash from within. He braked and listened. He could hear the clanging of metal from within the dark building…

_Jazz did say he ran into Ravage the other day…_ Bumblebee thought to himself. _…Maybe that filthy black glitch is back… _

Bumblebee transformed. As he did so his weapon; a laser pistol, popped into the air and the Autobot caught the object after he completed his transformation. Stepping over a crushed box of what appeared to be human clothing, the yellow, VW-disguised Autobot made his way silently across the street. The building's name was displayed on a large broken marquee of white human characters above the entrance: WAL-MART. The 'T' and one of the 'L's was missing, having long fallen to the ground below where they still lay in pieces. Using the concrete side of the building as cover, Bumblebee peered through broken entrance and gazed inside. A number of small counters with mounted computers lined the space just beyond the entrance. Tall poles displaying the stations' designating numbers followed down the row in sequence. Looking beyond those, he saw aisles for human objects and merchandise. Most of the aisles were cleared of their treasures, but some artifacts remained.

Bumblebee's audios twitched as he heard a soft rustle inside. Holding tight onto his weapon, Bumblebee strode across the entrance, bent low and crouching as he made his way into the human store. When he was fully inside he felt a wave of relief flood him as he realized the ceiling was high enough for even Optimus to stand comfortably inside. Gazing around he saw the floor was littered with trampled items; clothes, food stuffs, and boxes.

He heard the sound again. Bending low, weapon raised, he began walking towards it. As he neared its location, he noted the condition of the surrounding aisles. It looked as though one of the shelves had fallen over and the resulting domino effect had toppled three more before a metal support column had quelled the destruction. He noticed curiously the thousands of small metal canisters with various colored labels littering the floor. There would be no way he could tread through the mess and not alert any lurking Decepticon that may or may not be in the vicinity.

Walking past the littered floor he found himself in an area of the store that apparently stored the flesh of other creature of which humans commonly consumed. Bumblebee had encountered carnivorous species before, but nothing like the Humans. Their society provided food and everything for them, and the primitive act of hunting one's own food was eliminated from their culture, at least in the more modern places. But organic flesh rotted not long after the creature life functions ceased without some sort of preservation. The area used to be refrigerated apparently, and, when power went out a couple months ago, the packaged flesh began to rot, leaving a disgusting odor in the air. Bumblebee immediately turned off his olfactory sensors as he passed the rotting meat, trying his best to ignore the mess and revolting display.

There was another noise, a clash of metal on the linoleum floor. It was loud; too loud for Ravage to have made…on purpose anyway. Bumblebee began walking down the aisle, stopping to peer around and pointing his weapon. He began to feel he was chasing a ghost when he reached the back aisle. He jumped out from behind the cover of the previous aisle and pointed his weapon, his optics and chest-mounted head lights illuminating everything before him.

Instead of confronting the lurking Decepticon Ravage as he had expected, his laser scope pointing at his head with a red dot, he confronted a small being - smaller then most he had come across. It was a human…a human pup…or whatever they called their young. And young he _was_. The little creature froze, his expressive eyes wide and frightened as he stared at the much larger being that had popped out of seemingly nowhere.

The human held two of the silver canisters in the crook of his arm and had been reaching down for another when Bumblebee had jumped out. The little creature let the two cans he held drop to the floor with a clang (_so that's what that noise was_ Bumblebee thought to himself).

With a partially relieved smile, Bumblebee stowed his weapon back in his subspace. Turning back to the little organic, Bumblebee titled his head in an amused way.

"Hey there little guy," Bumblebee said quietly as he took a step towards the wide-eyed human. The little organic shifted noticeably and took a step back; his eyes staring up at Bumblebee with sheer terror. Noticing the little one's fright, the yellow Autobot lowered himself to one knee and gestured towards him. "I'm not gonna to hurt you."

Bumblebee stared at the child, his optics scrutinizing it. He surmised it to be male, but, while they were young, most human offspring of both genders looked too alike for him to differentiate the two. It was only when they became adults that the difference was obvious. The only way to tell for sure was a more _invasive_ scan, and he doubted such an action would quell the young human's apprehensions. Judging by the clothes it wore, he appeared to be male; as females usually wore more bright colored clothes and did not encase their legs, but instead wore open ended garments. This one wore a white top garment, faded lettering on the chest, and bottoms made of the blue, durable fabric most humans donned as the standard of clothing. He wore foot coverings (shoes) and their restraints (laces) hung loosely across the floor around his feet. He was covered in dirt and his exposed arms were covered in scrapes and healing lacerations.

"What are you doing out here all alone?" Bumblebee asked. Almost as if to answer him, the little boy's stomach gave a loud and long rumble, before he covered his abdomen as if to silence the noise, all the while never averting his gaze.

The yellow Autobot couldn't help but laugh. "You're hungry aren't you?"

The little boy gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod, eyes never wavering from the much larger Mech kneeling a few feet away. Bumblebee reached out. The human flinched away startled, but relaxed slightly (though not much) as he realized Bumblebee was reaching for one of the cans he had dropped and not for him.

Bumblebee turned the can over and gazed at the cover. In large ornate lettering it said "Old Dixie Peaches", while further inspection revealed the nutrition label and a recipe for Peach Cobbler. Bumblebee flicked an amused smile down at the little boy, who was now eyeing the canned fruit rather then Bumblebee. His little hands were pulling the hem of his shirt anxiously.

Bumblebee chuckled and with little effort (and without the aid of a can opener) he sheered off the top. He looked at the little boy and held the can out, but in order to get to the food, the human had venture towards the Autobot.

_If it worked for Optimus,_ Bumblebee thought to himself, thinking back to that time in his life. _It can work for me!_

If Bumblebee had read the little one's expression correctly (much like the one he had when Optimus discovered him alone under the ruble of his past home) he would choose the food. And he was not disappointed. The little boy's eyes flickered back and forth between the food and Bumblebee and with each suspicious switching of the gaze he took one cautious step forward. Five glances later, a little hand reached out slowly and grasped the edge of the can.

For a fleeting moment their eyes met and the little boy didn't seem as frightened...then he pulled the can from Bumblebee's grip and ran off. Stopping a safe distance away, halfway down the aisle, the human crouched down and began to devour the peach slices hungrily. At first Bumblebee felt a little disappointed as the boy ran off, but the feeling vanished when the boy simply crouched and began to refuel himself….messily at that. The syrup spilled over the can's side every time the boy reached inside to pull out yet another peach slice, dripping onto the linoleum flooring. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Bumblebee propped his head on his fist and observed the boy.

He watched as the human swallowed the last bit of organic matter that was the peaches and stared down into the can; considering it before lifting the can to his mouth and draining the remainder of the syrup. Pulling the can away, the boy looked back inside it as if expecting it to magically refill with fuel. Licking his lips, the human dropped the can and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before wiping said hand on his pants. The little boy spotted another can and reached for it. Eyes lifted from the can's label back to Bumblebee as if considering. Turning to the Autobot the little boy apprehensively made his way over to him and held the can out, his face pleading.

The bemused scout stared for a moment before realization hit. "Still hungry little guy?"

Chuckling lightly to himself, Bumblebee took the can and sheered off the top, noting the contents of the can differed from the previous one. This can was filled with a red pasty goop with round white circles. Shrugging off his observation, Bumblebee handed it back to the boy who eagerly took the can and lifted it to his lips and began to slurp the contents noisily. Half way through the can, the little boy bent down and sat on the floor, leaning up against Bumblebee's leg. Finishing off the can the boy sat it down and wiped his face with his hand again though a good majority of the red goop remained.

The little boy looked up at Bumblebee…and smiled.

"Tankyu…" The little human muttered in a small shy voice.

It took Bumblebee a moment to translate the bad pronunciation of 'Thank you' though he dismissed the error as a product of the child's young age. Protoforms were known to have trouble saying certain words as they grew accustomed to their vocalizers and he saw no reason why young humans wouldn't come across a similar obstacle.

Bumblebee smiled down at the boy and patted him fondly on the head; the boy didn't pull away but giggled instead, reaching up to grab a hold of one of Bumblebee's large fingers. He stared at curiously, observing the wires and servos visible in between the armor plates.

"You're welcome," He smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Arthor's Notes:** Well! Reviews galor! You know the deal; the more people review, the more likly a story is to continue! I've been hitting snag after snag with the Collatteral Damage story and that means I haven't gotten a chance to write anymore of this story. Still, it's a fun read for what I have done. Not much going on here other then a new chapter! And I apologize for the short chapter. I'm a fan of well sized chapters and I feel a slight shamefullness in posting such a meager chapter. Bad girl! For those who reviewed and continue to support my stories, I thank you all. For those of you who have read Vaeru's fanfic Juxtaposition, I drew a pic for her. You can vew the pic either by going to her profile where she has a link to it (among other fan art pieces that I recomend viewing if you haven't already) or go to Deviantart web page and searching for 'Juxtaposition Medley'. lol. Yay for shamless plugging!

**_EDIT: This chapter has been replaced with a updated version that has been graciously Beta-read by E_pona Harper!** **_Thank you Epona!_**

**Chapter 2 **

The area surrounding the Ark was very beautiful despite all the destruction just a few miles below in the abandoned human settlement. Sunset was just beginning; Trailbreaker's favorite time to be on sentry duty. It made having to stare out into space for a prolonged period of time lot more interesting when there was something interesting to stare at.

Spring was a probably the only time of the Earth seasons that Trailbreaker found the terrain bearable, even pleasurable at times. The sunsets were particularly colorful in spring. As the tall dark figure pondered the curious thoughts that chose to arise in his databanks during times such as these he became aware of an energy signature approaching the perimeter. His programming kicked in, but he quickly aborted going into combat mode as he recognized the signature to be that of the Autobot scout Bumblebee.

He was late. Usually he didn't spend a lot of time on patrol unless he found something interesting in the human city and decided to drag it back to the Ark to horde in his room. Trailbreaker swung his rifle across his shoulders and waited for the small Autobot to come into view. A yellow, earthen vehicle came driving up the hill, a small cloud of dust kicking up behind him as his tires struggled up the steep incline.

Trailbreaker's shoulders shook as he chuckled at the display of exertion from the 'little Autobot that could' as Bumblebee finally made his way all the way up the hill. The black sentry stepped up as the little Autobot slowed, nearing the Arks entrance.

"Hey there, Bee," Trailbreaker said. Noting that Bumblebee wasn't transforming the Autobot cocked his head. "Somethin' wrong, little buddy?"

"I uh…need to get inside," the little VW replied.

Trailbreaker raised a suspicious optic ridge, "Why aren't you transforming?"

Bumblebee's reply was hesitant. "That's the reason why I need to get inside."

"Are you stuck again?" the sentry asked with a grin.

"NO!" Bumblebee squawked indignantly at the recollection.

"Well? Then what's the problem?" Trailbreaker demanded, serious suspicion seeping in.

Bumblebee's tires shifted uncomfortably. "Promise you won't tell?"

"Depends," Trailbreaker replied flatly. "If it's potentially dangerous…"

Bumblebee laughed. "I doubt he could do much _harm_…"

Trailbreaker's suspicions peaked. "'_He_'?"

Bumblebee's door popped open, and, after a moment a small human child, exited the sentient car, dropping to the floor and promptly falling over. As soon as the boy was clear, Bumblebee transformed. Bending down, Bumblebee scooped the boy up and held him in the crook of his arm.

Trailbreaker's expression was somewhere between mild curiosity and borderline annoyance. Remembering himself, Trailbreaker looked at Bumblebee.

"Don't you think you're taking this collecting thing a bit far?"

Bumblebee stared at the sentry, appalled. "Wha- No! I'm not _collecting_ him! I found the little guy wandering around inside the abandoned, human food distributor station. I couldn't just leave him there all alone…"

Trailbreaker turned his gaze to the human in question who turned away shyly at the Autobot's stare. "That can't be good."

"What?"

"Where are his procreators?" Trailbreaker asked aloud more in speculation instead of an answer to Bumblebee. "Humans this young are never left to themselves. Adult humans are very protective of their offspring, and it doesn't seem right that one would abandon their child."

Bumblebee nodded. Looking down at the boy in his arms, he gave the child a small nudge to get his attention. When his green eyes peered up at him, Bumblebee asked "Do you know where your parents are?"

The little boy looked away from the Mech, a pained expression on his face, and said in a small cracking voice, "No…" With a whimper the boy snuggled against Bumblebee's chest.

The scout looked up at Trailbreaker with a pleading look. The black Mech seemed to be considering something and was having difficulty coming to a satisfactory solution. Finally, he scowled in resignation and waved towards the Ark. "Ah, go ahead! But you owe me one, 'Bee."

Bumblebee smiled and nodded. Passing the sentry, he put a hand on the taller Mech's arm. "Thanks, Trailbreaker."

"Are you gonna tell Jazz?" The sentry asked turning to the smaller Mech as he entered the Ark. Pausing in his stride, Bumblebee looked back with a grin.

"Eventually…"

However he had managed it, Bumblebee made it safely to his quarters without running into anyone in the halls of the Ark. Not that he expected too many of them to be wandering around. Most of the resident Mechs would be in the Rec room if they weren't on duty. Reaching the door to his personal quarters, Bumblebee punched in the code and stepped through as the large, silver door swept aside. As it closed behind him the lights automatically turned themselves on, illuminating the small room. Designed to house two, full-sized Mech's, Bumblebee had a lot of room to himself. His berth was more like a low level shelf, a thick sheet of metal protruding from the wall. Other smaller shelves held some random objects and trash. Empty Energon cubes scattered the floor along with some of his meager possessions.

Bumblebee cleared a spot on his berth by swiping all the objects to the floor with a sweep of his hand and set the little human down. Looking at his mess of a room with slight embarrassment, Bumblebee turned to the little boy and grinned sheepishly.

"So yeah…this is my quarters," he said. "Sorry about the mess. Never really was much of a neat-bot."

Grimacing, the Autobot shifted from foot to foot. "If Prowl ever saw this mess he's have me clean the entire ship by myself." Looking back down at the boy, who seemed to have found a small bolt to which to focus his attention, Bumblebee smiled. "Good thing Prowl isn't here then isn't it?"

As if to answer him, the little human sneezed, dropping the bolt from the force of the action. Looking up to the Autobot, he smiled and giggled as he wiped his nose on the back of his little hand.

_Maybe I _should_ clean this place up a bit, _he thought to himself.

For the next ten minutes or so, Bumblebee resigned himself to tidying his quarters; tossing the empty cubes down the shoot to the incinerator along with some other garbage and placing all his nick-knacks either back onto the shelves or into the storage drawers lining the wall above his bunk.

All the while, the little boy watched curiously from his spot on the Autobot's berth. When Bumblebee placed a small container atop the surface next to him and began to fill it with objects he had collected from the human city, the boy reached up to look inside. Seeing the objects inside he cried out excitedly and began to dig through the contents.

Sending the boy an amused smile, Bumblebee returned to cleaning.

Digging past familiar things, the little boy pulled out several seemingly mundane objects; all their purposes were lost on Bumblebee. One object Bumblebee had been most curious about was a round green plastic disk with small lights inside with a deep groove running around it while a piece of string was round inside. Seeing the boy hold the strange object, Bumblebee paused to watch to see if perhaps he may learn what the object was for. The little boy stood with the green plastic thing in hand and smiled at Bumblebee.

Holding up the object he said, "Yo-Yo!"

Pulling out the end of the string and slipping his small finger through the loop at the end, the human allowed the disk to fall, spinning as the string unraveled from around the groove. The lights inside lit up as it fell and just as the disk seemed to be about to smash into the ground, the boy pulled up and the disk spun back up. This curious scene repeated two more times before the string tangled around the disk, halting further movement.

With annoyed, frown the boy went about untangling the mess of string.

_It's a toy!_ Bumblebee discovered in a pure _Eureka _typemoment. _Humans are entertained by the…strangest things_.

Having successfully untangled the string, the boy placed the Yo-Yo on the ground and went to the next object, though it seemed to puzzle him as much as his Autobot chaperone.

And so went a couple minutes or so before Bumblebee decided the room was adequate. Most of the objects were quietly stored away with only few things remaining on the shelves and on the opposite berth save for a few things the little boy had taken a liking to and were currently occupying his attention. Bumblebee felt an odd sense of pride for his now reasonably-cleaned living quarters. At least he wouldn't get punishment detail if Prowl were suddenly to appear at his door.

As the door to his quarters suddenly rushed aside with a soft swishing noise of metal on metal, Bumblebee openly cursed his choice to have had that _particular _thought at that _particular_ moment.

_I hate irony._

Red Alert stood in the threshold of the smaller Mech's room, arms crossed and optics glowing angrily. His head tilted to the side slight as he looked over at the small human child sitting on the berth before flickering back to Bumblebee.

"What are you thinking?" Red Alert demanded. "Bringing a human here?"

Bumblebee stood to his full height. "Look Red, I-"

"No excuses! Bringing a human into our midst, our base of operations? It's a serious security risk!" Red Alert growled.

"Security risk?" Bumblebee scoffed. "What could he possibly do?"

As the altercation of words between the two Mechs became heated, the human boy backed away from Red Alert, whimpering. Bumblebee turned to the boy and scooped him up.

"You're scaring him," Bumblebee told the security officer with distain.

Red Alert huffed at the yellow Mech. "Does Jazz know?"

Bumblebee shifted uncomfortably. "I hadn't gotten the chance to tell him. I was going to when I turned in my report."

Red Alert held out his hand and gestured. "Give me the child, Bumblebee."

The Scout looked up startled at the Mech and cradled the boy protectively. "What?"

"You've brought contraband into our base, and it's my duty to report it," Red Alert replied sourly. "I'll deliver the human to Jazz, and he'll decide what to do with it. You're confined to your quarters until further notice."

Bumblebee looked desperately around the room as if there may be something he could use to alter the situation. "Red Alert, please!"

"I'm not arguing, Bumblebee," Red Alert replied with a scowl. His fingers gestured.

Bumblebee took a long moment as he looked back and forth between the boy and the irate officer's outstretched hand. He couldn't disobey orders…but he couldn't just hand the boy over – not in good conscience.

"You're apprehension is unfounded," Red Alert told him with a softer tone. "We aren't going to hurt the human. _You_'re the only one being punished here."

Seeing the truth in the senior officer's words, Bumblebee reluctantly transferred the boy over to the Security officer waiting hands. Realizing the implications of the action, the little boy began to squirm and yell out in protest. As Red Alert's hands closed around him, the boy screamed and began to cry. Bumblebee looked devastated as the little boy looked up into his optics, his eyes leaking, and reaching out to the yellow Autobot desperately with his small hands. He looked away from the boy, ashamed, as Red Alert turned away and disappeared through the door which closed with a soft _whoosh_.

Bumblebee couldn't help but feel…horrible.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, I started writing a little more to this story, not much (a few paragraphs), but then again, I seem to be slow in all my writings latly. I've gotten involved in several types of Transformer art projects and that's taken a good amount of my time. But still, no worries.

**NOTICE: THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND REVISED!!!!!!**

**Chapter 3**

Red Alert growled as the little human in his grip struggled violently. The Autobot's verbal reaction, however, didn't help calm the child in the least. If anything, only prompted more tears and louder screams from the small being.

_Primus, help me, _Red Alert thought bitterly to himself.

"Yo! Red!" The security officer turned his head at the sound of his name. Coming up behind him was a red armored Mech; his golden counterpart thankfully absent. "_What the pit_ is that noise?"

Red Alert turned around to face Sideswipe, revealing the crying child in the process. Holding the boy at arm's length Red Alert eyed Sideswipe disdainfully, as if that were all the explanation necessary. "This."

Sideswipe bent slightly to peer to the squirming human who, at the sudden presence of another Mech, stopped his squirming and crying to take in the newcomer. Watery, puffy, green eyes stared at Sideswipe as he inhaled in short hiccups.

Sideswipe glanced up at Red Alert. "So…what's with the squishy-mini?"

"Bumblebee found it down in the town while on patrol," Red Alert replied. "And for whatever reason, he decided to bring it back here."

Sideswipe smiled at the little boy and poked him playfully. The human didn't seem to find it amusing and swiped at the prodding metal finger with a look of a little annoyance and more than a little fear. Sideswipe's smile gained an amused tilt.

"What are you gonna do with 'im?" he asked, stroking the top of the little human's head with a forefinger almost in a 'just kidding' gesture.

"I'm tuning it in to Jazz," Red Alert replied flatly.

Sideswipe stood back up to his full height, turning his bright blue optics on the security officer. "What for?"

Red Alert snorted. "I should think it to be obvious!"

"_You would_," Sideswipe rolled his optics. "What's Jazz gonna do 'bout 'im?"

"It isn't my place to say."

"Whatever," Sideswipe replied, beginning to loose interest. Walking back down the way he had came, the red Mech waved. "See ya around, Red. Bye mini-squishy."

With an annoyed shake of his head, Red Alert continued his short journey down the hall to where Jazz had temporarily taken possession of Prowl's office. The other choice had been Optimus Prime's office, but the saboteur had a strange reluctance to take up residence there, saying it wouldn't be right – an expression of respect for their leader no doubt. Prowl's office was situated just at the head of the dormitory hall like a watchful lookout post. The doors opened readily as Red Alert stepped up.

The light of the hall provided practically all illumination to the dimly lit room. The reason behind the lack of light was apparent when Red Alert stepped in and the door hissed closed behind him. Jazz sat behind Prowl's desk, several holograms on display before him. One of them was the image of the Autobot commander, Optimus Prime. Jazz turned off the recorded hologram as Red Alert entered, apparently deciding to listen to the rest of the report afterwards. The little human boy gave a stifled whimper when the darkness of the room deepened. Jazz's optics immediately fell to the fleshling with a surprised expression before they traveled up to Red Alert's face.

Reading Jazz's curious glance, Red Alert took the liberty of jumping right into explanations. "Bumblebee found this human alone in the settlement while on patrol and brought it back to his quarters. When I saw this in the security video feeds, I immediately ventured to confiscate it."

Jazz sat straight in his seat and smirked at the security officer's choice of words, but his expression dimmed slightly seeing the distraught way in which the little human squirmed and cried. "Let me see the little guy."

The human boy cried out, surprised, at the sudden transfer as he could barely see in the poorly lit surroundings. Jazz cradled the fidgeting child in his hands a moment before looking back up at Red Alert. "Thanks, Red. If you would, could you send Bumblebee in here in about a breem or so?"

"Of course."

Looking very satisfied with himself, the security officer left, the hall lights illuminating the room for a moment before the door closed once again. Jazz set the boy on the table before reaching for the controls near the edge and turning up the lights. He smiled, amused, as the boy rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the change.

"You're just a _little_ fella aren't ya?" Jazz said, peering at the boy. Looking up, the human stared, wide eyed and scared, at yet another strange giant. The little boy scuttled back from the Autobot. "Don't be scared," Jazz smiled. "No one's gonna hurt you."

The little boy gulped nervously.

"You got a name there, little guy?"

There was no answer to his inquiry. Instead, the young human seemed to be attempting to curl into himself, making himself as small as possible – perhaps hoping he would make himself harder to see. Jazz's optics softened as he gazed at the small being before him; so frightened and helpless. Where did he come from?

"I'm not gonna hurt you, little guy," Jazz said again with a smile. A black finger slowly moved in to gently nudge the boy, but he cried out in fright at the contact and backed away until he was nearly at the edge of the desk. Jazz felt a small surge of panic as the boy's small hands reached back to pull himself farther away from the saboteur but made contact with empty air. The boy cried out as he toppled backwards off the desk, but he had scarcely even begun to fall before Jazz leaped from his seat and reached out to catch the child. The black and white Autobot pulled the boy close and sat back down in his chair.

The boy began to cry. Loudly.

Wincing at the pitch of the sound in his audios, Jazz carefully cradled the boy in his hands - completely at a loss for any sort of solution.

"C'mon, kiddo," Jazz said gently. "You're all right now."

Still the cries and tears continued. Jazz noticed however, the boy was trembling.

"Poor little guy," he said, peering at the boy. "Had a little scare, did ya?"

To Jazz's relief, the little boy paused in his wailing to look up at him, and nod.

Jazz smiled and gently with the tip of his finger, stroked the top of the boy's head. "Don't you worry, kid. You're OK now."

A small whimper escaped the boy, but no other protests manifested. As the tears dried and the human child began to calm down, Jazz tried one more time to learn more about the boy.

"Do you have a name?" Jazz asked.

The little boy hesitated a moment before giving a small nod. Jazz chuckled when he realized he would have to continue asking questions in order to get a full answer.

"What is it?"

The little boy opened his mouth like he was getting ready to reply, but apparently thought better of it and promptly snapped it closed.

"You don't want to tell me?"

The little boy shook his head, bright green eyes studying the large black and white giant whose company he had suddenly found himself in.

"Fair enough," Jazz laughed with a shrug, shifting in his chair slightly. Leaning one elbow on the desk, Jazz looked at the boy with a reassuring grin. "Tell ya what; if I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?"

The saboteur raised an expectant optic ridge at the small human and tried his best to keep his facial expression as unthreatening and cheerful as possible.

The little boy pondered this for a moment before giving a small, slightly uncertain, nod.

Jazz couldn't help but grin. He'd always found Humans fascinating creatures and their young were endlessly amusing. Their culture was so diversified! Geological separation had directed the human race to develop with hundreds of variations in culture that spread all over the world. He'd never come across any planet with so many different cultures! The humans of Earth only seemed to be beginning to discover their own potential by the time the Cybertronians had awakened and brought their war into their midst – halting any such progression…or accelerating it, depending on who you asked. Jazz felt sympathy for the small child quivering in front of him. The little male seemed to be incredibly scared - not that Jazz could blame him. The poor kid probably missed his parents.

Carefully, he sat the boy back down on the desk top, mindful of the distance between the boy and the edges of the surface. Jazz leaned back casually, but kept his movements smooth and slow.

"My name is Jazz," The saboteur said cheerfully. Jazz looked at the boy expectantly.

The human child stared into Jazz's visor as if trying to decipher signs visible only to him and said in a small voice, "Sammy…"

Failing to suppress a triumphant grin, Jazz leaned back farther in his chair, hands resting easily in his lap. "OK, Sam-my-little-man; how old are you?"

Looking down at his hands, Sammy carefully counted the digits before holding up one appendage, displaying four small pink fingers as his answer in lieu of speaking.

"Four years?" Jazz asked. Sammy nodded his slow nod, his eyes never moving away from the grinning giant. Despite the cheerful façade he showed to the boy, inside Jazz felt a twinge of regret at seeing this manifestation of their war and its effects on the humans; ranging all the way down to their youngest and most vulnerable. _He's barely out of infancy… _

"Where are your parents Sammy?" Jazz asked. "How'd you get here?"

For the first time since meeting the child, Jazz saw him lower his gaze from him to the table's surface. Sammy gripped the hem of his shirt and wrung it in his hands as if the question had touched a sore spot. His face bore an expression Jazz had long ago associated with emotional stress and fear. With so much death and destruction around him, it was hard not to become familiar with the facial contortions of humans.

"Dunno…" Sammy replied; his voice cracking strangely. The boy sniffed and rubbed the back of his arm across his face. In a small voice, quivering and sounding almost panicked, Sammy elaborated despite his obvious fear. "Mommy es sick…dey not give 'er medacin an…sick people aw taken away. Daddy take us an we weft. We walk a wot from da plant an got weally hungwy…no food."

Jazz nodded in all the right places, latching onto several key (albeit badly pronounced) words in the fragmented sentences like 'Plant', 'Medicine', and 'Mommy is sick' and 'sick people are taken away'. Suspicion ran through his processor…

_Plant_, Jazz thought, rolling the word in him mind in an attempt to grasp its meaning. _What 'plant'? Surely he can't be referring to vegetation…A factory of some kind perhaps? Hm… his Mother is sick and those at the plant wouldn't treat her…so they left. No food…_

The more Jazz thought about it, the more he began to think that what the boy was vaguely describing might be an Energon refinery. Jazz wouldn't be at all surprised that the Decepticons would begin establishing such facilities in the war torn areas. The Autobot forces were strung thinly across the globe and, with many more Decepticons to spare for such projects, Megatron could easily slip his Mechs into the most devastated areas of the planet to put up the refineries. With so many displaced humans and refugees, there were plenty of workers available to work the plants.

Jazz shuddered at the thought of the frail humans being forced to work to produce Energon, a substance that, while vital to all Transformer life, was dangerous and easily fatal to a human. Even to a Transformer, Energon in its most raw form could do some serious harm if they were subjected to prolonged contact. He would know; he'd been in a Decepticon refinery long time ago when the War was reaching its peak on Cybertron. He'd been a young Mech at the time, a civilian. He'd refused to take a side in the conflict and as such was forced into labor when he was caught by a Decepticon platoon and traded to the refinery for Energon. Mechs who suffered major to minor malfunctions or simply didn't keep up with the work load were sent to the smelting pits. Luckily enough for Jazz and a good many others, they were liberated when the Autobot forced raided the plant. Many of the survivors became Autobots out of sheer gratitude and some for revenge. The Decepticons had birthed many a fierce Autobot warrior through their refineries.

His audios perked at the sound of foot steps outside his door and, sure enough, a few nano-clicks later, the door parted to reveal the small Autobot Bumblebee standing on the threshold. By his solemn expression, the young scout had been a little more then worried. However, Bumblebee's face immediately lit up when he saw Sammy sitting on Jazz's desk, unharmed and seemingly no worse for wear.

The little boy turned at the sound of the doors and a wide smile graced his face at the sight of Bumblebee. Sammy got to his feet and hurried over to the edge of the desk, arms raised, indicating he wanted to be picked up.

Bumblebee smiled and scooped the boy up. "Hey there, little guy. Red wasn't too rough with you was he?"

Sammy wrinkled his nose at the name and blew a raspberry. Bumblebee laughed and felt a leap of elation at seeing Jazz doing the same.

"Jazz, I don't know what Red said, but-" Bumblebee began, his face pleading for understanding, but Jazz merely raised a hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa there just a click, Bee," Jazz said with a grin. "You're not in trouble. Red Alert's just being…well…Red Alert."

Bumblebee's face looked relieved. "So you're not mad?"

"Why would I be? Sammy's a cute kid."

"He told you his name?" Bumblebee asked, looking down at the little boy in his hands and pouted playfully. "You little traitor."

Sammy just smiled.

"He told me a couple of other things as well," Jazz added, his tone noticeably more grim. "If what I'm thinkin' is right, we got a real serious problem on our hands."

Bumblebee held the boy closer to him, protectively, as he dared to ask the next question. "Like what?"

"Like we got Decepticon Refineries here on Earth…except that humans are the slaves instead of Cybertronian civilians and POWs." He chuckled. "Not that the kid said it in those exact words, but you get the picture."

Bumblebee's startled stare snapped down to the little boy. It pained him to imagine such a small thing slaving away in one of the infamous refineries. If Jazz's conclusion was accurate and there were refineries being built, the humans being forced to operate within its compound were not going to last very long. That having been said, how did the boy escape? Surely his parents must have master minded the operation. And if so, where we're they now? Why had they left their child? After escaping the Decepticons, what could possibly possess them to abandon him? What if they hadn't? For all that any of them knew they both could be dead.

"I'm working on sending Prime a report soon, and I'll tell him about the kid. If there's a possibility that the Cons 'er settin' up plants then we need to let 'im know," Jazz replied and his gaze flickered over to Sammy. "But for now, we need to take care of the boy."

Bumblebee jumped onto the subject. "I can take care of him."

Jazz's grim face suddenly quirked into a smile. "Oh?"

"Well," Bumblebee began. "There's still some human fuel left over in the distribution station where I found him. Most of it has already begun to decay, but the canned and preserved food seems to be alright for him. I brought some back with me just in case."

"That'll do it for now," Jazz said as he stood from his seat. Walking around the desk, he placed his hand on Bumblebee's shoulder. "But ya' gotta promise me that you'll still be able to keep up with your other responsibilities. When you're on duty, just send the kid to me or Wheeljack."

"So Sammy can stay?" Bumblebee asked hopefully.

Jazz smirked. "Of course the little dude can stay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's notes:** Hey everyone. Sorry about the delay in updates. I have a new Beta Reader, Epona Harper, and we've been going over everything. The previous chapters have all been edited for grammar and spelling and **Chapter three has been revised so please go back and re-read that before proceeding onto this chapter**. Seeing as it took so long for me to update, this chapters a bit long winded. lol I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Please leave feedback! I love feedback! Reviews happy authors and happy authors More updates. lol. It's pittiful but very true.

**Chapter 4 **

Bumblebee sat down on his berth and sighed, exhausted from the past few hours' exertions. Having been put in charge of the human boy, Bumblebee had to convert his quarters somewhat in order to accommodate an organic. Fortunately, he had help. Wheeljack was thoroughly intrigued by the concept of having a young human staying at the Ark (at least temporarily) and practically jumped at the opportunity. They had looked into the human's internal information network to sort out what care a human child required. Thankfully there were servers still operational in distant countries that allowed the Autobots make full use of the medium. By the time they had finished and had a good idea of what they needed, Bumblebee felt rather overwhelmed. Humans Sammy's age required constant supervision. Not only for mental stimulation and education, but also to make sure that they didn't damage themselves doing something stupid.

Human curiosity – apparently it kills.

Sammy also needed frequent, close, physical contact as the opposite would be detrimental to his development, and most of all they had to be extremely careful of what they fed him to avoid nutrient deficiencies that could lead to several problems that they simply didn't have the resources or proper knowledge to treat.

Several hours after the meeting with Jazz, Bumblebee left Sammy with Wheeljack to go back into town to forage for what they required in order to make the child more comfortable. He went immediately to the devastated Wal-Mart and scoured through the remnants. There he found most of what he needed; more food, a small springy sleeping pad (_mattress_, as the information network had called it), a thick square of padded fabric (blanket), and even some clothes. He spent another hour or so randomly searching various shops he generally neglected to explore on his routine patrols.

Jazz was readying his report to send to Optimus by the time Bumblebee returned. Setting the small canisters of preserved food on the shelves above the vacant berth in his room, Bumblebee pondered where best to put the little human's sleeping pad. His first thought was to simply place it on the other empty berth. However, after some consideration, he decided against it. Sammy was rather fidgety and the prospect of him possibly falling off from that height was concerning. In the end, he decided to place it under his own berth; there was less chance of the boy being injured and he would be close enough to Bumblebee so that he could do something quickly if a situation arose.

The modifications to his quarters complete, it was time to fetch his charge. Walking into Wheeljack's lab, Bumblebee greeted the engineer who was preoccupied with an odd little device, scrutinizing it with one optic as he held it up to the light.

"Hey, Wheeljack," Bumblebee said stepping up to the table. Looking around, Bumblebee's tired demeanor turned to concern with a touch of irritation. "Uh…'Jack?"

Wheeljack, still looking at the device, mumbled a reply "Hm?"

"Where's Sammy?"

"Sideswipe came in about three hours after you left and took him," Wheeljack replied simply. "Don't worry. I cleaned the kid up like you asked. All lacerations and tissue damage were superficial and will heal on their own in a matter of days."

"And you just let him?" Bumblebee asked annoyed.

"What?"

"You just let Sideswipe take him?"

"Actually," Wheeljack admitted almost defensively. "I encouraged it. That little biped is sneakier then Laserbeak, let me tell you! I'm tempted to make a leash for him."

Bumblebee raised an optic ridge. "What happened?"

"Everything was going fine for the first hour or so. He stopped crying about three breems after you left. I gave him some washers and ball bearings to play with while I finished the repairs on the ship wide-comms. I looked away for a breem - at most - and he managed to climb up to the top storage shelf and push a container over the edge." Wheeljack raised a hand and pointed to a significant-sized dent in his cranial unit just to the side of one of the flashing fins situated on either side of the engineer's head. "Caught me right above the vocal indicator. Oh, it was just an accident, but it still hurt like the Pit."

Bumblebee didn't need to be told what happened next.

"Then the kid started crying," Wheeljack sighed. "Probably thought I was gonna squish 'im or something. I was trying to calm him down when Sideswipe came in. Kid stopped crying instantly, so I put two and two together and passed down the burden."

Bumblebee's mind sputtered indignantly at Wheeljack's choice of words, but outwardly, he only groaned. "So where is he now?"

"Probably the Rec room with everyone else," Wheeljack replied simply as he returned his scrutinizing gaze back to the device in his hands.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

The echoing din of several Mechs laughing emanated from within the Rec room. Four Autobots clustered around a small table in the center of the room, a cube of glowing pink liquid resting in front of each of them. The largest of the gathered Mechs was Trailbreaker, having been relieved of sentry duty a few breems ago by Huffer. The two seated next to him were of equal size and similar model type; one of them sported a glossy yellow armor while the other red and considerably less shiny then his counterpart. They were the Autobot Twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Another Autobot with white and blue armor sat quietly observant from his chair watching as his three cohorts chortled over their new guest. His name was Mirage.

"He's so small," Sideswipe smirked as he lowered his face almost to the table's surface, trying to get a better view of the child. The little human boy sat with his back to the Autobot, looking around at all the metal giants. The human boy in question remained quiet and observant, his bright green eyes looking around at all the metal faces. Whenever someone made a sudden move, Sammy would jump or whimper, but, thankfully for those in the room, he managed not to turn on the water works. After a little more than an hour, Sammy was starting to relax, and Sideswipe even caught the boy smiling or laughing once or twice.

The human's attention was occupied by a metal ball bearing he had taken with him from Wheeljack's lab. As he had done several times before, Sammy rolled the bearing across the table where Mirage caught the small sphere as it rolled off the edge and politely rolled it back to the boy, much to his glee.

"Easily entertained isn't he?" Mirage smirked at the boy as he caught the metal object.

"When did we become a human-sitting crew?" Sunstreaker asked as he set his Energon cube down after taking a drink. The sound of the cube hitting the metal surface of the table caused Sammy to turn his head at the unexpected noise. Setting down the metal ball, the boy rose to his feet and slowly walked over to Sunstreaker's Energon cube. When the yellow warrior wasn't looking, Sammy peered down at the glowing liquid in utter fascination as the different hues of pink light swirled around in the container. Infamous human curiosity took over and his small hand reached in…

"Careful," Mirage warned, jerking up from his relaxed slouch after when he noticed the boy's movements. Curious optics flickered over to Mirage and then, seeing where the spy's optics were focused, over to Sammy. Sunstreaker looked down and scowled. The yellow Mech picked him up and brought the boy close to his face, optics narrowing at the human. "Unless you wanna melt into an organic goop, I suggest you stay away from the cubes and their content, runt."

The little boy merely blinked at the scowling Autobot.

"I think he likes you, bro," Sideswipe said.

Sunstreaker's narrowed optics flashed over to his brother. "What makes you say that?"

Sideswipe's shoulders shook in silent laughter. "He ain't cryin'. You heard the racket he was making when Red had him didn't you? Primus, I thought my audios would short circuit…"

Trailbreaker's optic ridges rose. "That was _him_?"

"Yeah," Sideswipe replied. "Woke me right up outta recharge."

"Here," Sunstreaker said to Sideswipe, offering the human child to his brother. The red armored Mech held out his hand and Sunstreaker tipped his hand. Sammy slid off his sleek metal palm and into Sideswipe's.

Sideswipe stared at the small being in his hands for a long moment before announcing abruptly, "I think we should give him a new name."

"Why?" Trailbreaker asked. "What's wrong with the one he's got?"

"'_Sammy_' just sounds too…," Sideswipe struggled to find an accurate word. "…_human_."

"Well, he _is_ human," Mirage pointed out.

"I was thinking something like…_Spike_," Sideswipe replied, not seeming to hear the others's objections.

"Spike?" Sunstreaker looked dubiously at his brother and then back down to the boy. "Why _Spike_?"

Trailbreaker rolled his optics and Mirage slowly shook his head.

"Because it suits him," Sideswipe said holding Sammy up as if to show him off. "He looks like a _Spike _don't ya think?"

Mirage titled his head bemusedly. "No…not really."

Sideswipe scowled. "Yes, he does! His hair; it looks like one of those…spikey creatures."

"Your abilities of acute description are astounding," Sunstreaker smirked.

Sideswipe's scowl deepened. "I can't remember the name of it! Frag….it's small and spikey! It's covered in spikes!"

"Hedgehog?" Trailbreaker ventured in a half-hearted attempt to help the red Mech's failing argument.

"No…it starts with a 'P'…"

"Porcupine?"

"That's it! His head looks like a Porcupine!"

There was a long awkward moment of silence.

Sunstreaker stared at his brother. "You're an idiot."

Sideswipe huffed as he pulled Sammy away, almost defensively. "And you got a dent."

In an abrupt turn-around, Sunstreaker's expression shifted from mildly annoyed to near panic as he contorted to find the spot Sideswipe meant. "Where?!"

His brother snickered.

Sunstreaker's face fell at the realization that he'd been had. He shot to his feet, chair sliding back with a squeal, and pulled his arm back ready to slam a fist full of metal into his twin's face. Sideswipe shied away from his enraged brother, holding the human boy to his chest protectively while raising his free hand in an attempt to shield himself from the blow.

Sammy whimpered.

"Hey!" Sideswipe cried. "Cool it! You're gonna scare Spike!"

Sunstreaker lowered his curled fist and sank back into his chair flicking, a sneer at his brother.

"Slagger," Sunstreaker scowled.

"Love ya too, Bro," Sideswipe grinned before turning his attention back to the boy to make sure he wasn't too shaken up. Surprisingly, Sammy looked more annoyed then scared.

The Rec room doors parted with a hiss and the yellow form of Bumblebee stepped through, his optics immediately locking onto Sammy.

"Leave a note next time you decide to abduct Sammy, Ok?" Bumblebee told Sideswipe as he came to stand next to him, a definite note of irritation in his tone.

"'Abduct' nothing!" Sideswipe replied. "Wheeljack practically forced the kid on me when I came in to ask him about my jetpack. Besides, he's not Sammy anymore. We renamed him."

"And by 'we' he means himself," Trailbreaker offered, propping his head up with his hand.

Mirage looked over at the bulky Autobot and stifled a grin.

"So…you just renamed him?" Bumblebee asked with a dubious glare. Sideswipe nodded. "Dare I ask, to what?"

"_Spike_," Sideswipe grinned.

Bumblebee rolled his optics. "Did you even ask him if he wanted to be renamed?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "'Ask him'? The kid barely says anything and, when he does, can't hardly vocalize the simplest of words."

"He's just shy, that's all," Sideswipe countered defensively giving the little boy an encouraging smile. "Ain't that right, Spike?"

Sammy/Spike looked up at the red Mech holding him in his open palm then smiled and nodded with a giggle.

"See?" Sideswipe pointed to the boy. "He likes his new name!"

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Optimus touched a small button on his wrist, deactivating the hologram projection of Jazz's face as the lieutenant's report ended. This news was not what he had wished to hear from home base. Beside him, Prowl sat in silence. His left arm rested on his lap, palm up, the armor plate removed to reveal the delicate circuitry below as he carefully repaired the damage he sustained during the last altercation with the enemy. Prowl was no medic, but he could repair a cracked circuit without help, and Ratchet was optic deep in damaged Mechs. It was a mediocre job, but it would do for the time being until he could get the damaged circuit replaced or have Ratchet go over it once the walking wounded were taken care of.

"What's the news?" Prowl asked, not bothering to look up from his tedious work.

Optimus sighed. "It's beginning…"

At his commander's choice of words and his foreboding tone, the black and white Mech looked up.

"Sir?" Prowl asked.

Optimus turned to look down at his second. "Jazz has reason to believe the Decepticons who remain in North America are establishing Energon Refineries."

Prowl's optics narrowed. "How? Who's working them?"

Optimus stared into the younger Mech's optics. "The human refugees it seems. Jazz informed me that Bumblebee stumbled across a young human alone in the abandoned town of Burbank whilst on patrol the other day. The boy is _very_ young and Jazz believes he and his parents may be refinery escapees. Although their whereabouts are not known; they are presumed dead."

Prowl looked back down at his wrist and the exposed wires. Silently, he replaced the panel and stood up.

"What are your orders?" Prowl asked.

Optimus was silent for a moment. "Send word to Ultra Magnus."

Prowl's stance visibly stiffened. "I do not wish to question your orders, sir, but we've already placed several requests for reinforcements. They're just as depleted of resources and warriors as we are."

"We must try," Optimus told Prowl. "If the Decepticons are allowed to extract and refine the Earth's resources to create Energon, there is no doubt they will send it to Cybertron to aid their forces there. Ultra Magnus will not have a choice but to send us aid. If Earth falls to the Decepticons, I fear Cybertron will as well."

Prowl gave his commander a curt nod before replying. "I will send a priority pulse wave immediately."

"Thank you, Prowl."

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

It was dark, but not frighteningly so. The smell of _them_ was everywhere (a combination of motor oil and ozone), but not overpowering, not as it had been back _there _– at _that place_. These robots were nothing like the others he had encountered. They smiled at him, played with him, made him feel…safe. Made him feel like he had before his family had to leave home.

Before the plant and all the nightmares that were born there.

Sammy had awoken half way through the escape attempt and nearly blowing their cover. When the small group of escapees had made it out of the guards' range of sight, they openly ran, farther and farther into the wilderness. For weeks they had traveled. They slept, huddled together to keep warm, never daring to start a fire for fear of being caught. They scavenged along the way for food; they found mushrooms, wild berries, and once even a nest of duck eggs. One night they camped by the river and temptation got the best of them. As it began to appear that they were well out of harm's way, they risked building a fire. His father and two others waded out into the water and used their shirts to catch fish. It wasn't the most successful venture, but they ate well that night and slept warm and happy together. It seemed at last that they were free…

And then the Shadow found them.

_The darkness was thick and there was so much dust it was hard to breathe. The smell of unwashed humans and the stale sweat staining their clothing was overpowering as they huddled together inside the abandoned clothes shop, the soft fabric of hanging clothing brushing their faces and backs. Sammy clung to his mother as she held him close._

"_Hush baby…" His mother cooed, rocking him. His mother's chest shook as a coughing fit hit her, but passed a few seconds later. "It's OK, don't be scared."_

"_I'll be back," His father said from where he crouched down next to them. "I'm gonna try to find Howard and Jenny." _

"_No!" His Mother pleaded, reaching out and grabbing a fist full of her husbands tattered and worn shirt. "That thing's still out there!" _

_He gazed at her for a long moment. _

"_We didn't survive all this time just to die here," He told her gently. "I'll be back. We need to regroup if we're gonna have a chance against that monster. Trust me…"_

_Tears lingering in her eyes, she pulled her husband closer and hugged him with one arm, choking back as much of the fear as she could. He pulled in closer and hugged his wife back, cradling her against him for a long moment. Looking down at his son as they pulled away, he ruffled the shaggy brown mop. "Be good for your mother, OK? You have to protect her for me until I get back."_

_Sammy nodded meekly. "Yessir…"_

"_That's my boy," His father smiled before he disappeared from sight._

_His mother continued to rock back and forth quietly singing to her baby, stroking his hair and kissing him. Soon he drifted off to sleep in his mother's arms; warm and loved. _

_A scream startled him awake sometime later. His mother jumped as well, having fallen asleep too. _

"_William," She breathed, her voice quivering with fear. "Oh god…"_

_There was anther scream before everything fell silent. His mother jumped to her feet, clinging to her child. She made her way to the front of the store to peer out. She sucked in a horrified breath and darted back across the store to the back. Looking around through stacks of boxes and merchandise, knocking over a great many as she past, she caught sight of an air vent. Running up to it, she put her son down, and began yanking on the cover. Rusty screws gave way and with a screech the cover came off. Setting it to one side, she picked her Sammy up and put him inside. Dust and cobwebs coated his hair…_

_  
"Mommy…" Sammy whimpered. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, tears streaming down her face. "Honey, please. Stay quiet. No matter what you hear, stay quiet OK? Can you do that for me? Can you be brave for mommy?"_

_Sammy cried even harder, gripping his mother's hands as if she would stay as long as he held onto her. He nodded. _

"_Good boy," She smiled and kissed her son. "I love you, Sammy, I love you so much."_

_And then…she was gone…_

Sammy's eyes burned as tears formed and squeaky cries escaped his mouth. He could imagine their faces, their warmth. He could feel their touch and hear their words. His little heart ached. He wanted to feel all those things again. He wanted his Mommy to hold him, smooth his hair and rock him, make him feel better. He wanted his Daddy to play with him again. He wanted so many things.

"Sammy?" Bumblebee looked over the edge, blue optics peeing down at the comforter that completely covered the human child as he lay on the small mattress beneath the Autobot's own berth. "What's wrong little buddy?"

Bumblebee reached down carefully and pulled back the edge of the covers. The little boy's face was streaked with tears. Bright green eyes locked onto blue optics. Sliding off the edge of his berth, Bumblebee kneeled down to get a better look at the boy. "Are you OK?"

The little boy sat up, rubbing his tearing eyes and gave a quivering cry as a reply. Bumblebee's expression softened at the sight.

_Poor little guy_, Bumblebee thought sympathetically. Smiling warmly, he reached out and smoothed the boy's hair before scooping him up, blanket and all. He straightened up and sat back down on the berth, cradling the distraught human in his metal arms as he had seen mothers doing in pictures on the human information network. Snuggling against the metal body of his guardian, Sammy began to slowly calm down, his cries dying down to mumbling whimpers.

"It's OK," Bumblebee told him comfortingly, rocking him slightly. "You're all right."

A few breems later, the boy was sound asleep in Bumblebee's arms, tears staining his cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's notes:** Wow...this story is a lot more popular then I thought it'd be - 37 reviews for four chapters (well...five now). I guess the whole "Little lost human taken in by Transformers" motiff really strikes a chord with you all. Which is fine with me, seeing as I enjoy those stories too. When I had first started this, it was completly intended as a one-shot but ideas just kept coming...then a plot formed - (GASP) A plot?! Yes my precious readers, there is indeed a plot here! Whether my minds stays put in one place long enough for said plot to unravel remains to be seen. One thing that does help though...are reviews! The higher the review count, the happier I'll be (and who wouldn't be?) and therefore more likely to not only continue the story, but update faster! Just a warning though, this chap's a bit on the long side; chapter six may be a while in coming depending on how I feel.

(Cough)Review(Cough)

Thank you OH SO MUCH to my wonderful Beta and her plot bunnies of which aren't given nearly as much credit as they deserve. And thank you for putting everyone back into character when I accidently knocked them out of it.

Like most of my fanfics that I really get into, I started drawing. And well, I drew a pic. But it won't be posted until I reach a certain part in the story so I don't give anything away. Let me remind you all, this story _is_ rated **T **for a reason. Beware of future chapters...

**Chapter Five**

"How do _we_ keep getting stuck with you?" Sunstreaker asked with bored annoyance the small, human child who was sitting in front of him.

The boy in question was occupying himself by playing with a strange assortment of nuts, bolts and other random mechanical paraphernalia. Over the course an hour, Spike had assembled and disassembled the small collection into a variety of odd-looking creations that didn't resemble whatsoever the figures that he claimed inspired their fabrication. After the completion of each one, the boy would present his creation to his chaperones and then take it apart again in order to rebuild it into something else.

Spike looked up at the yellow-armored Autobot and smiled.

" 'Cause Bumblebee says so," Spike replied.

Sideswipe snickered from the chair beside his brother. "Can't argue with that logic."

Sunstreaker rolled his optics and returned his own attention back to his nearly empty Energon cube.

Spike got up from the table, hefting his newest creation and presented it to Sideswipe.

"Done!" Spike declared with pride.

Smiling with amusement, Sideswipe plucked the small object from Spike's hands to get a better look.

"What's this one?" Sideswipe asked.

"Sunstreaker," Spike replied.

Sideswipe merely stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. Sunstreaker sneered at his brother before glaring at Spike.

"That pile of scrap doesn't look a thing like me," Sunstreaker scoffed. "You're a failure as an artist."

Spike merely stuck his tongue out at him.

Sideswipe's laughter slowed into unsteady chortles. "Oh relax, bro….he's just having some fun."

Handing the boy back his toy, Sideswipe patted his brother on the back.

Sunstreaker shrugged him off, clearly not amused.

"Well at least one of us is having some fun," the yellow Autobot said. "'Cause I'm bored outta my processor."

"I still don't get why Prime didn't take us with him," Sideswipe mused.

"He wanted some infantry models to remain at base," Mirage quipped as he entered the Rec room followed by Trailbreaker. "It's a basic strategy."

"Also," Trailbreaker added teasingly, "He won't have to put up with you two or your shenanigans."

"Pranksters we may be," Sideswipe replied in a 'as a matter of fact' tone, "But there ain't a Mech on Cybertron or Earth who can scrap a 'Con like Sunny and me."

Mirage just smiled and shook his head as he filled up an Energon cube with Trailbreaker waiting his turn behind him.

"Besides," Sunstreaker added in, leaning casually in his chair. "If he's so desperate for reinforcements, why not send for us instead of constantly calling Cybertron?"

"If we were to leave for the European front," Mirage explained as he took his normal spot against the wall, "that would leave North America even more vulnerable than it already is. It would only further destabilize the situation, and the Decepticons would practically have an entire continent free to themselves. Our mere presence here is keeping the Decepticons on their toes somewhat. Whatever they want to do, they have to be careful about it, which slows down progression of any sort of scheme they may be planning."

"But we're not doing anything," Sideswipe reminded him; his hand propping up his head, giving him a distinct bored look. "The only intelligence we get is from our patrols, Prime, or Cosmos."

"They don't know that," Mirage replied, taking a drink from his cube.

"They will eventually," Trailbreaker said as he took a seat at the table. "That's why we need reinforcements. And soon."

There was a general chorus of nods and mumbled agreements before the room fell silent.

"Still bored," Sunstreaker mumbled after a minute or so. Glancing at Spike as the boy began to disassemble his Sunstreaker replica, the golden warrior snorted. "Why can't we be as easily entertained?"

"Because he's four," Mirage supplied. "And you're older than his entire species."

"Your point being…?"

"The world's still new to him," Mirage replied. "And the things we may find mundane, he finds fascinating."

Sunstreaker stared dubiously at the spy. "He's never seen a washer or bolt before?"

"Sides'!" Spike suddenly called, alerting the group to the boy. "Looky!"

Everyone looked down to find Spike…upside down. The boy was standing on his head, both hands pressed to the floor, dispensing his small body's weight. Before anyone could say anything, his feet came down and he turned right side up again.

Feeling his little trick was impressive, Spike looked around expectantly.

"Hey," Sideswipe said to the boy. "Can you do that again?"

Spike nodded. "Uh-huh."

Turning to his brother, Sideswipe grinned. "I got an idea…"

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Blue armor glistened under the thin lines of light passing through the bars of the lift as it descended further and further into the bowels of the planet. Ultra Magnus, the tall, broad-shouldered Autobot Rebel Commander with stern optics, stood perfectly still, hands linked behind his back. Flanking him was his second-in-command…who was also his personal adviser and close friend. The rough-armored Mech stood as stationary and stone-like as his companion. Faded, army-green armor, numerous scratches and small dents littered the Mech's armor as he had long before decided that it was a waste of effort and energy to be fussing over such small, cosmetic injuries; not that Kup had ever truly cared much about his physical appearance.

"I don't like it," Kup said, his expression dour.

"I don't wish to discuss this any further," Ultra Magnus replied mildly with a slight wave of his hand.

"He's the Prime!" Kup exclaimed as if he never heard his commander's words. "How could he abandon us? Abandon Cybertron?"

"Kup," Ultra Magnus said sternly, looking towards the Mech with an annoyed glare. "I do not wish to discuss it. Optimus has made his decision; as have we. There is nothing more to speak of."

"There's plenty to speak of!" Kup snapped. "He can't disappear for hundreds of vorns and then walk back in like he was never gone! How can he think we have any reinforcements to send? We're barely getting by with our own numbers! And now he wants us to send aid to a backwater mudball? Just because some organics can't defend themselves?!"

"Kup!" Ultra Magnus barked. "You know if we had the resources at our disposal we would send the requested aid."

"But we don't!" Kup replied harshly.

"Exactly."

"So why does he keep beaming requests?"

"Because he feels that, should the organics' world fall to the Decepticons, Cybertron would soon follow suit," Ultra Magnus replied, making an effort to curb his growing annoyance at having to explain the situation.

"And just how did he come to that conclusion?" Kup asked dubiously.

"Apparently that 'Backwater mudball' is a natural resource cache unlike anything Transformer-kind has ever come across. Furthermore, Optimus believes the Decepticons are establishing Refineries. That was the main subject of this latest communiqué."

"What proof does he have of that?"

"The fragmented testimony from an immature organic, apparently," Ultra Magnus replied. "It's hardly adequate evidence to justify sending aid given our current situation."

"Let's entertain the idea that Prime's right about the Refineries; then the Decepticons would have the energy to ship back here to shore up their forces," Kup mused. "But, if we send aid, we'd probably lose what little foothold we have and Cybertron would definitely fall into 'Con control."

"And if that were to happen," Ultra Magnus added somberly. "Where would the good have been in sending aid to Earth in the first place?"

Kup grunted. "But still he-"

"Kup," Ultra Magnus said sternly. "Please, I don't wish to discuss the matter any further."

"I-! OK," Kup said dejectedly. "It's just so fragging…wrong! Sorry, Magnus."

"There's is no need for apologies, my friend," Magnus replied, sending the disgruntled Mech an encouraging smile. "It is a difficult reality to face, but one that needs to be faced nonetheless. We each have made our peace with the situation. Now we must look forward to our own battles. Ours is here on Cybertron, and Optimus Prime's on Earth."

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"Eight," Sideswipe declared immediately, slapping down several Energon chips.

"Five," Trailbreaker decided after some quiet deliberation and tossed in his own chips.

"Three," Sunstreaker added in loftily adding a single chip.

Sideswipe gave his brother a snide glance.

"What?" Sunstreaker asked with a shrug. "I'm being realistic."

"You're being a _glitch,_" Sideswipe countered.

Sunstreaker smirked. "But I'm a glitch who'll be taking your money in just a second."

Looking at the small pile of Energon chips, Sideswipe silently made tally before noticing the absence of one bet.

Glancing up, Sideswipe gestured at the figure standing a small ways off.

"What about you, Mirage?" Sideswipe asked the white and blue Autobot who was quietly sipping his Energon. "You gonna place a bet?"

A small smile crept over the spy's lip components before he shook his head. "No. As much fun as gambling credits on the physical endurance of an adolescent organic biped sounds, I think I'll keep my Energon to myself, thanks."

"Suit yourself then," Sideswipe shrugged and then turned his attention to the object of the game. In the center of the table, sitting quietly, was Spike who had taken a decided interest in the glowing disks that looked so much like the liquid Sunstreaker had prevented him from adequately investigating a little over a week prior. Sideswipe smiled at the boy. "OK, Spike; do your thing!"

Looking up at the red Autobot, Spike nodded. He set the glowing disk aside and stood up. He cast a look at his audience and smiled at the expectant expressions. A few days around his new caretakers and Spike was effectively warming up to all of them. Well, all except for Red Alert. The head of security had reacted to news of Jazz's decision by keeping away from the bulk of the Ark-stationed Autobots to quietly nurse his pride in his quarters, emerging only when he was on duty. But, even on duty, he remained stonily silent on the matter of their "guest".

Adjusting his stance, Spike bent forward and placed his hands firmly on the table and pushed his feet in the air with a small grunt. One hand shifted, trying to equally distribute his weight between his arms and keep the balance. His tiny legs, suspended in air, wobbled lightly as they fought to keep upright.

"One…" The assembled Autobots counted in chorus; voices laced with anticipation.

"Two…"

"Three…"

Spike's feet wobbled uncertainly, fighting valiantly against the law of gravity…

"Fo-"

_Crash_.

Spike fell forward with a startled yelp, his back slamming into the metal table followed by his head.

"HA!" Sunstreaker cried out in triumph, rising from his seat. Turning to his brother, the yellow Mech grinned and pointed. "I win!"

Sideswipe sneered at his brother before looking down at little Spike, who at that moment had picked himself up and was rubbing at the back of his abused head. With a mocking pout, Sideswipe said, "You disappoint me, Spike…"

The little boy glanced up at Sideswipe with a hurt expression said, "Ow…"

Sunstreaker shoved his twin playfully with one hand while the other happily collected his spoils. "Don't blame the kid for your ineptitude at placing bets!"

Trailbreaker quietly mumbled to himself as he counted the remainder of his own credits, stowing them away into subspace with a disgruntled sigh.

After putting away the day's winnings, Sunstreaker carefully scooped the little boy up, a large grin still plastered on his silver face.

"Congratulations, Spike! You are now my favorite biped!" Sunstreaker declared.

Spike looked at the golden warrior and whimpered, hands still clamped tightly over the offended area of his cranium, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. "Owie…"

Before Sunstreaker, or anyone, could reply to the statement of pain, Spike began to cry. _Loudly_.

The golden warrior looked uncertainly back and forth between his brother and Trailbreaker, and even shot a pleading glance to Mirage who suddenly found the bottom of his empty Energon cube rather fascinating. The piercing wails of the bruised child echoed around the Rec room awkwardly until the sound of muffled, hurried footsteps and a door opening with an infuriated hiss broke the monophony.

"What in the pit did you do to him?" Spike's chief caregiver marched irately into the Rec room, optics focused squarely on the golden mech currently holding the crying child. Bumblebee stomped up to Sunstreaker. Bumblebee put his hands out expectantly, taking advantage of the fact that Sunstreaker's seated position put the Lamborghini at optic level with him to give the warrior a searing glare.

Sunstreaker eagerly placed the boy in the yellow minibot's hands. "We didn't do anything! He just started crying for no reason!"

"He hit his head," Mirage supplied absently, earning himself glares from three pairs of incensed optics. "That's a reason, I should think."

"'Hit his head'…" Bumblebee repeated dubiously as he held Spike comfortingly, trying to get the boy to stop his crying. "May I as just how that happened?"

Trailbreaker, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker all shifted stiffly in their seats, none of them wishing be the one to give the answer for fear of further enraging their normally docile friend.

"We were just…" Sideswipe began before the rest of his answer was lost into a low tones mumble.

"Excuse me?" Bumblebee asked, raising a skeptical optic ridge. "Your vocalizer seems to have muted itself."

"We were just…gambling…"

Bumblebee stared blankly as his processor struggled to adapt to the rather absurd information.

"With Spike?!"

"No…well yeah…kinda…"

"Is your processor crashing or something?" Bumblebee asked angrily. "He's a child! You have to be careful or he could be seriously damaged!"

"Oh come on, 'Bee," Trailbreaker spoke up. "We'd never let the kid get hurt, we were just having a bit of fun. He seemed to be having some too…until he knocked his noggin."

The small-statured Autobot didn't seem to take any solace in this fact. If anything, it only seemed to make him more angry.

"In our defense," Mirage added. "Human children Spike's age are rather accident-prone. If you're going to act like this every time he sustains any sort of damage, you're gonna melt the coverings off your wires within a week."

"That's why I left him with you guys!" Bumblebee snapped. "So stuff like this _doesn't _happen. And you go and get him hurt for a _bet_?"

"I think you may be overreacting just a bit, Bumblebee…" Mirage said flatly.

The yellow minibot didn't seem to think so. "Overreacting!? He's just a kid. We don't know how badly a little knock upside the head damage him. Organics are fragile, and their young are even more so."

Bumblebee's irate prattling struck a small chord with Sideswipe. As the minibot spun on his heel and marched out of the Rec room, he found himself mentally going over various scenarios, possible accidents that could befall their new, little friend – even here "safe" in their base. Normally the most brandish and outgoing (and yes even reckless…), Sideswipe began to wonder how safe the little human was around them.

He would have to have a little chat with their resident security office before the day was through.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Bumblebee was furious. A layer of foggy anger hung over his processor as he marched down the Recreation room corridor with a sniffling Spike cradled against his shoulder.

_How could they be so irresponsible…so…stupid! _Bumblebee thought acidly as he rounded a corner, heading for the dormitory hall to see if Jazz was available to watch the boy while he went on patrol.

As he made his way through the halls, his mind prattled on and on as his anger slowly dissipated, leaving behind something surprising. Something unexpected which had perhaps pushed his legitimate anger into near-rage. What he had said had been the truth, yes, but he knew they would never intentionally let the kid get hurt; it was an accident. And yet he was still annoyed with them; not out of anger but jealousy. The first few days of Spike's stay with them, Bumblebee had been the only mech the boy seemed even remotely comfortable with, but, as the days went on, the young boy seemed to open up to the others and even smile when he saw one of them; a gesture that once had been solely Bumblebee's.

He barely cried anymore, much to everyone's relief, and was slowly beginning to talk more openly. That fact was even more of a relief for Bumblebee. At first, when the child had to be coaxed to utter even two words together, Jazz had speculated that the trauma of the Energon plant had somehow stunted his development since the data on human development they had accessed told them four-year-old humans should be far more communicative. However, as time went on and the boy opened up, it seemed that this had been more of a case of temporary regression instead of actual mental damage.

But then there were the constant nightmares he was having. Every night since his arrival, Spike had awoken in the middle of the night crying, and, every night, Bumblebee had to calm him down and soothe him back into recharge. The boy was definitely traumatized. It would probably be a long road before he could even begin to heal from those wounds. But, as the human saying went, "Baby steps…Baby steps…"

The door to Jazz's temporary office slid aside…but no one was there. The office was dark and the chair vacant.

"Frag," Bumblebee cursed and retreated back into the hall. Turning around to make his way pass the offices and labs to the Medbay, Bumblebee wondered to where Jazz could have gone. "Well, let's see if Wheeljack's willing to tolerate you for another afternoon."

As if to answer him, Spike whimpered as he rubbed the still throbbing spot on his head. "_Ouch_…"

Bumblebee couldn't help but smile. Gently with his free hand, the yellow minibot reached over and stroked the offended area sympathetically.

"Hit your head huh?"

"Yeah…" Spike sniffed. "… I tried to do handstand…"

Bumblebee laughed kindly. "Not gonna do that again are ya?"

"Nu-huh…"

"Good boy," Bumblebee replied with a chuckle.

Keying open the Medbay doors, Bumblebee walked across the threshold and into the brightly lit room…and he was struck dumb with surprise. The floor of the bay was littered (quite literally) with parts ranging from small washers and bolts to large hunks of machinery in various stages of assembly. Tools were scattered across every available surface. In the middle of all the mess, sitting cross legged in the middle of the room, was Wheeljack with his back turned to them.

At the sound of the doors opening to admit Bumblebee and Spike, Wheeljack pointed a warning finger and said without turning around, "Don't step on anything! I got all everything exactly where I want it." The finger and the arm it was attached to retracted to join its partner in the seemingly random fiddling of a small box-like device with wires sticking out of the sides. "The ship-wide comms are repaired but the comm channel is still glitched somewhere. While I was finishing up the patch work on the ship-wides, I noticed that the ventilation shaft was broken in several places and, seeing as we have a new resident organic, I figured we'd need to make sure the air in this place is safe for him. So I'm fabricating a monitoring system that will inform us of any hazardous gasses present in the ship."

"Oh…ok," Bumblebee replied dumbly. He didn't even bother mentioning the favor he'd hoped to ask the engineer. Bumblebee slowly backed out of the Medbay, mindful of the parts scattered about his feet. "Well…I'll be seein' ya then. Bye, Wheeljack."

"Bye bye, 'Jak," Spike said with a little wave.

"See ya," Wheeljack replied absently with a curt wave of his own as his attention focused squarely on the device in his hand.

Bumblebee stood outside the Medbay and silently cursed. Now what…?

Looking down at the boy in his arms, Bumblebee sighed.

"Well…I guess you'll just have to come with me then," Bumblebee mused. "You'll be OK. Nothing ever happens on patrol…you're probably safer out there with me than in here with Sideswipe. Less chance of more handstands gone horribly wrong…"

Spike nodded solemnly as he nursed the growing goose egg on his noggin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"You want me to _what_?" Red Alert scoffed. Looking up from the piles of data pads he was engrossed in, Red Alert gave Sideswipe a stark glare. "Has your processor melted by any chance?"

Sideswipe scowled, crossed his arms over his chest, and huffed up to make himself look taller. "I'm being serious. I think we should _Human-Proof_ the Ark."

"I don't even now what that means," Red Alert retorted. "And I'm far too busy to even listen to you right now."

"Oh, mute it!" Sideswipe snapped. "'Busy' my aft! We're all bored out of our mainframes, and you know it. There's a lot of stuff here that could hurt the kid, even kill him. I just think we should look into making sure there isn't something that could get the kid scrapped. You're head of security, so it's your department!"

"Your efforts, no matter how well intended, are illogical," Red Alert replied, maintaining his mild tone. "It would be an enormous undertaking to convert the entire ship to be 'Human Proof'. Simple things like altered regulations on radiation and chemicals are no problem, but to take this proposal to full fruition would take up time we need and resources we don't have; all for one orphaned human."

Red Alert resumed his searching through the various data pads even as he continued. "And how would this venture be beneficial for me? It's common knowledge that I am against the child being here at all. It's completely illogical."

Sideswipe snarled. "And what exactly are we supposed to do with him, then?"

"Return the boy to his own kind," Red Alert replied tartly. "There are refugee camps scattered around the state and beyond. I'm sure there'll be some poor, human female who's lost her own child willing to take him in."

"That's a death sentence," Sideswipe declared. "Those camps are nothing but giant targets for Decepticon attacks, and you know it!"

Red Alert paused in his searching and looked up, his optics seeming to weigh Sideswipe. "What makes him so different from those humans that he should receive special protection?"

Sideswipe opened his mouth to reply but didn't answer.

"It's because you've made contact with him and have developed some affection for him," Red Alert replied pointedly. "In other words, you've put a face to a statistic. The other humans don't matter to you because you don't know them; if you don't see them, then they don't exist. The individuals don't matter, just the race as a whole. As long as the species survives, you're completely fine with our current battle strategy." Red Alert steepled his fingers and quirked an optic ridge at the warrior. "Am I right?"

Sideswipe stood silently in front of Red Alert's desk, completely dumfounded…and ashamed. He was right…for once-Red Alert was right.

"Well," Sideswipe replied defiantly, "Maybe that needs to change!"

Red Alert smiled despite himself. "_Now_ you're thinking logically."

((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))

Bumblebee chuckled as he drove through the ruins of Burbank, his tires running easily on the smooth road. Spike was kneeling in Bumblebee's passenger seat, the seat restraints wrapped around his middle, as he looked around eagerly through the Autobot's windows at the remnants of the city. Once in a while Spike would point to certain buildings or things he saw and named them. Bumblebee began to wonder if bringing Spike on patrol was a good way to help educate the boy somewhat. He knew basic objects and could recognize certain words on signs or buildings, although Bumblebee assumed it was more because the buildings themselves were familiar to him rather than his being able to read the signs.

Suddenly, Spike cried out and pointed down a street to their right. Bumblebee slowed to a stop and looked down the road. As his optic sensors scanned, scrutinizing the area, he vaguely registered the fact that the road in question was one of few he had not been down in his patrols of the city due to the amount of debris littering it. Some roads were clogged with such a huge amount of debris that it made using his vehicle mode near impossible. This particular street was blocked off by a fairly good-sized truck that had been flipped over and had caught fire at some point. Half-collapsed buildings lined the road and the street itself was littered with bricks and abandoned cars.

"What's wrong?"

Spike hesitated and his hands pressed up against the glass. "…Mommy…"

Bumblebee's audios perked up.

"Your…mother?" Bumblebee asked. "Down there?"

Spike hesitated, gazing out the window with a forlorn look before saying, "Yeah…"

Bumblebee's door popped open, startling the boy. Spike looked back at the Dashboard bemused.

"Come on Sammy," Bumblebee quipped. "Let's go find your mother."

Again the boy hesitated, but, after a brief pause, he hopped down from the Bumblebee's seat to the ground, allowing the Autobot to transform. Looking at Spike, he smiled and reached down to pick the boy up and deposit him on his shoulder. "Hold on tight. Ok?"

"Ok," Spike replied meekly.

Carefully, Bumblebee waded through the debris and bricks, trying to avoid any missteps that could result in a very bad fall; worse for the boy than himself. Working his way around the destroyed truck, Bumblebee got a better view of the street and the overall destruction. Like all the other parts of Burbank, the shops lining the street had their windows broken, leaving shards of glass along the sidewalk that glittered almost beautifully when the sun hit them just right.

A large brick building that had been demolished appeared to be the original source of all the small masonry that now dotting the street. The building itself must have been an impressive piece of work in its day. Ornate molding lay shattered amongst the dusty red bricks and trash. The remnants of the building's sign lay just to the side, large letters displaying the building's designation and purpose: 'Jerry Tidwell Law Firm.'

"Did you live here?" Bumblebee asked Spike abruptly.

"Nu-uh," Spike replied. "We hide there…house 's somewhere else."

Bumblebee gave the boy a sympathetic glance and reached up to ruffle his hair. "Your speech is improving."

At that, Spike positively beamed at the Autobot and nodded. "''Jack help me."

"That's good," Bumblebee replied with a smile. Stopping in mid-stride to take in the street entirely, Bumblebee asked, "Do you remember where you saw your mother last?"

The glee brought forth from Bumblebee's earlier compliment deflated like an old balloon. That reaction was not lost on Bumblebee. Attentively, Spike raised his arm and pointed farther down the street.

"Clothes shop," Spike replied. "We hide there…"

Nodding slowly as to not dislodge his young charge, Bumblebee continued down the road. He looked around continuously in some hope in finding a possible clue or hint; anything to lead them in the right direction. The closer and closer they got to the clothing shop which Spike had indicated, the boy seemed to become more anxious and alert. Every sound, no matter how subtle, made the boy jump or snap his head around to find the source of the noise.

_He's so jumpy,_ Bumblebee mused. _What could have him so fritzed?_

As Bumblebee neared the shop, he became aware of something he had failed to notice before. Long trails of a dark stain snaked their way across the street where a large pool of it lay, old and dried, in the middle of a cleared patch of concrete, just a little ways off from their intended destination. There was another pool further down from the first.

Bumblebee froze.

_Oh no…_

Slowly, he reached up and plucked Spike from his shoulder. Bending low, he placed the boy on the ground out of sight of the grim discovery, silently hoping the boy had failed to notice it.

"Stay here and don't move," Bumblebee told him sternly, using a pointed finger for emphasis.

Spike nodded as his bright green eyes staring nervously into the Autobot's face, and his hand pulled and wrung the hem of his shirt.

Bumblebee stood to his full height and slowly walked over to the dried pools of what he was absolutely sure was human blood. Crouching down to get a closer look at the stains, he set his optics on magnify. His initial scans revealed it to be hemoglobin, the watery plasma having evaporated long before. Whether it was human was yet to be seen. A test would have to be conducted to determine that. The tip of his right index finger opened up and a small tool extracted. Carefully scrapping some of the dried blood from the ground, he retracted the tool into his finger and stood, looking towards the next pool. He repeated the action, only with his left this time, mindful not to contaminate the samples by mixing them. As he was about to stand, he heard Spike scream. Whirling around, Bumblebee caught sight of a black blur as it tackled Spike to the ground.

A surge of energy fueled by anger coursed through Bumblebee's systems as in one fluid motion he stood, turned, and brought his weapon out of subspace aiming it at the Decepticon Ravage.

The mechanical Panther had one paw planted on the boy's chest, pinning him to the ground as his open jaws, full of razor sharp fangs, hovered mere millimeters over Spike's exposed neck.

"Hurt him," Bumblebee sneered, "and I'll blast you all the way back to Cybrerton, you slagging glitch!"

Ravage's head tilted up just slightly to smirk at Bumblebee. The shadowy Decepticon's optics were a deep red – so red, they looked like pools of fresh, human blood themselves.

Ravage laughed as he stared down the yellow Minibot, the young human underneath him too frightened to even cry or scream and thankfully had enough sense to not struggle. "Such horrid language. Don't you know how impressionable Human younglings are?"

"Get off him," Bumblebee growled. "Or I'll fire."

"Shoot and I'll rip his throat out," Ravage countered. "One bite to the appropriate place is fatal to a human; I'll survive one simple blast from your pathetic weaponry."

"But a shot in the right place will render you immobile. Stationary targets are simple enough to neutralize," Bumblebee retorted; his optics narrowing to thin slits. "Release him."

As the two Transformers bantered back and forth, Spike stayed still as possible. His eyes darted around franticly for some way, any way, to escape the monster on top of him. His mind raced and he shook with terror. But, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a piece of concrete not but a few inches away. He slowly reached out, grabbed it and pulled it back towards him. When the panther's attention shifted a bit more toward Bumblebe, he slammed the rock into Ravage's face. Even driven by fear, there was no way a four-year-old could strike with much force, but a sharp point of the concrete smashed into the Decepticon's delicate optic. The pain of the shattered sensor along with the shock of the unexpected attack caused him to rear back, giving Spike just enough freedom to scramble away from the reeling Panther.

Ravage furiously swiped at his wound with a paw before turning back to the human. With a roar of outrage, Ravage leaped into the air, claws and fangs bared, ready to sink into the boy's young flesh.

Bumblebee fired.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's notes:** Sorry 'bout the delay everyone. Busy week and everything. This chap's a bit short too. Sorry, can't be helped.

**Chapter 7 **

(Cybertron)

Blaster sighed.

It was endlessly frustrating that Ultra Magnus blatantly refused to act upon any of the pulse waves coming in from Optimus Prime's group. Surely Prime wouldn't continue asking for help if the situation didn't call for it; that was just the kind of Mech he was. Prime didn't like to overcompensate. If he could win a battle with just three Mechs, then by Primus he would. Extra Mechs were just a higher possibility for more casualties. Ultra Magnus knew this, Blaster was certain; and this little fact disturbed him. He was very familiar with just how dire the home front battle was going and, while on the surface, Magnus's stance seemed logical and even necessary, something just didn't sit right.

All Blaster knew was, if they continuously ignored Prime's hails for reinforcements, they would all pay the price sooner or later.

Looking around him cautiously, he pin-pointed everyone's position in the communications bunker before turning back to his own monitor. Reaching up to his audio receptor, he extracted a thick, black cord which he then jacked into the console, interfacing with the mainframe. His optics turned to static as his cognitive processor dipped into the computer to retrieve the last message sent from Prime's group. Latching onto the file, he downloaded a copy into his databanks before back-tracking the message to its source. Making a quick copy of the address, Blaster removed himself from the mainframe. Casually glancing around him to make sure no one noticed his actions, Blaster returned to monitoring the channels, all the while contemplating what exactly he planned to do with the information he had just stole.

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The early morning sky glittered above him as he stood sentry-like atop the hill. A light breeze swept through the valley, causing the tall grass around his feet to sway. His black and white armor that normally had a glossy sheen was dull in the faint morning light.

Jazz silently sighed. Earth was very beautiful. Its natural wonders were a treasure unlike anything he'd ever come across. In times of war, it was always nice to have some place to be able to get away and relax your mind. While the serenity of the valley before him was indeed relaxing, he had not come out all the way there to star gaze.

He was waiting for someone. And that someone was late.

Experimentally, Jazz reached over to his right wrist and checked his comm. All he received was static.

_Comm. channel's still down. Slag_, Jazz thought to himself. _Wonder what's keepin' Cosmos. _

A little more then a half hour later, the faint sound of a descending craft caught his audios. Looking around he locked onto an Autobot signature and waited. Soon enough, the stout form of Cosmos came into view from behind a grove of trees just to the side of the hill. The Autobot's model was definitely not meant for ground travel as he waddled over to Jazz.

"Greetings Jazz," Cosmos said pleasantly offering his hand.

"How's it hangin' Cos," Jazz said, shaking the Autobot's hand with a smile.

"Oh, not well I'm afraid," Cosmos replied with a solemn shake of his head. "Not well at all."

Jazz's smile faded and was replaced with a stern gaze in a small attempt to prepare himself for whatever news he was about to receive.

"Did you get the surveillance I requested?" Jazz asked carefully.

"I did," Cosmos replied as he pulled out a small disk drive from subspace. "Indeed I did. That's the bad news I'm afraid. I'll let you read the details for yourself."

Jazz nodded as he except the disk drive, stowing it away into his own subspace. "Thanks. Any news from Prime?"

"Nothing significant to report," Cosmos replied. "Prowl's latest request to Ultra Magnus has been refused."

"I can't say I'm too surprised," Jazz sighed. "Hopefully we can change their minds before it's too late."

"'Too late' may already be heading their way," Cosmos replied forebodingly.

The saboteur eyed the stout Autobot. "What do you mean?"

"While I was orbiting over the Midwest I spotted a Decepticon ship leaving Earth's orbit," said Cosmos. "The entire shuttle was giving off absurd energy levels. I have no proof to truly support my assumption, but I believe what I saw may have been the first shipment of Earth Energon."

"Frag," Jazz cursed and began to pace. "Have you informed Prime?"

"No," Cosmos replied. "I spotted the shuttle after leaving Optimus Prime, several breems prior to our rendezvous."

Jazz nodded his understanding. "Right," turning to Cosmos, Jazz placed a friendly hand on the Mech's shoulder and smiled, "Thank you Cosmos. You're efforts are a great help."

"I should return to my post then," Cosmos replied with a nod. "If I see anymore shuttled coming in or out of orbit I'll inform you at once."

"Let Prime know the situation too when you meet up with him again," Jazz said. "And tell the guys I said 'what's up', 'Kay?"

Despite the grim news their meeting brought to light, Cosmos couldn't help but laugh. "I will do that, Jazz. Take care."

With that, Cosmos transformed and hovered mid air for a moment before zooming back into the sky from which he came.

"Take care, man," Jazz waved as his comrade disappeared from sight.

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Spike lay still as silence fell over the street in Burbank once again. Small shards of glass scattered around his small form from the freshly broken window just above him. Ravage's body having been flung through it after Bumblebee's well timed shot caught him in the side, just below his rocket launchers, and the force of which sent him spiraling through the window.

The barrel of Bumblebee's gun smoked slightly and he waited, his audio receptors at their peek, trying to decipher any sign of a possible counter attack.

None came.

Feeling certain that Ravage had been put out of commission, at least temporarily, Bumblebee stowed away his weapon and rushed to Spike who remained on the ground unmoving.

Bending down, Bumblebee carefully slipped his hands under him and flipped the boy over, his optic software running full speed as they scanned feverously for any injuries. There was a long gash across his left cheek and blood dripped down his face, but the child didn't appear to have sustained any other form of damage. Spike's eyes were wide, his breathing came in sharp unsteady gasps, and he was trembling in Bumblebee's hands.

The boy was in shock.

"Sammy," Bumblebee said gently and stroked the boy's unscarred cheek with the tip of his index finger, trying to coax the boy back to reality. "Come on kiddo…snap out of it…come back to me Sammy."

Spike's eyes focused slightly, and he turned to look up into his guardian's face. His bottom lip trembled and realization of what had just happened seemed to suddenly strike him like lightning. Little hands, scrapped and bruised, reached up and grabbed onto Bumblebee's arm and Spike began to cry.

Bumblebee sighed in relief. He was crying. That was a good sign; at least he was coherent. Gently picking the crying child up, he cradled him against his body and stood up.

"It's Ok," Bumblebee soothed the boy. "You're alright, little guy."

Turning, Bumblebee began making his way down the street the way he had come. Silently he cursed himself for bringing Spike out on patrol with him. He had put the boy in danger all because he was being petty. If Spike suffered any lasting harm because of him, Bumblebee didn't know if he could forgive himself.

Stumbling slightly over a pile of bricks, Bumblebee tried patching into the comm. channel to call for aid; all he received was static.

_Damn glitched comm._, Bumblebee thought bitterly. _You never realize how reliant you are to something until it's -_

"Bumblebee!" A voice suddenly rang out of thin air, startling the Autobot from his train of thought. "Behind you!"

Instinctually, Bumblebee whirled around and his optics caught onto the black form of Ravage, very much alive, standing in the middle of the road. The Decepticon's right rocket launcher was gone, having been destroyed by Bumblebee's earlier shot, but the left rocket launcher however was still intact…and in perfect working order.

"Die Autobot!" Ravage roared as he launched his one remaining rocket at Bumblebee and Spike. Bumblebee saw a long contrail of white smoke tailed the rocket and it reached him far faster then he could react. All he could do was turn, his arms wrapping themselves around Spike protectively.

The rocket made contact with yellow armor, catching Bumblebee in the side; sending out a shower of sparks and shrapnel. His sensors screamed in pain and warning banners flashed across his vision. Energy levels plummeted as the blast severed a major Energon line and he lost all feeling in his right leg. His processor ran hundreds of miles a second and nothing was decipherable.

He dropped to his knees, fighting valiantly to keep from collapsing. His upper body drooped forward and Spike slipped from his hold. The boy landed awkwardly on his feet and tumbled to the ground. Spike began to cry harder then ever, his screams nearly drowning out all other sound; Bumblebee was only faintly aware of the distinct _Shew_ of a high powered rifle and the sharp _tink _of it hitting its target.

Bumblebee felt a soft _thud _vibrate the ground under him as if something relatively heavy had fallen over. Shakily he turned his head and saw a familiar blue and white Mech rush towards him, stowing his sniper rifle into subspace as he ran. Bumblebee couldn't recall the last time, if any, he had been so relieved in seeing the spy.

When Mirage reached Bumblebee, the yellow Minibot lost all bodily strength and fell to his side. Catching the smaller Mech just before impact, Mirage laid him out and immediately focused his attention to the gapping hole in his comrade's side that was now leaking Energon, lubricants, and shooting the occasional spark.

"_Primus, _Bumblebee!" Mirage snapped irately, sounding not at all like the calm and mild mannered Mech he usually was. He immediately began first aid treatment. "What the Pit were you thinking?! If Ratchet were here, he'd ream you're audios off!"

"R-ravage…" Bumblebee managed to utter, his voice hoarse and static sounding.

"Neutralized," Mirage paused before answering and added with clear-cut malice, "I made _sure_."

As Mirage worked as fast as he could to close off the severed lines, Spike crawled over to Bumblebee's other side and grabbed onto his guardian's hand, his small form trembling.

"Bumblebee…don't die," Spike sobbed. "Don't leave like Mommy…I'm sorry…I was bad…I'm sorry…"

Slowly, Bumblebee turned his head to stare at the human, astonished. The boy shook worse then ever, his green eyes wide and desperate; primal fear shone through and Bumblebee could feel the little human's small fingers franticly squeeze his hand.

He smiled weakly.

"D-don't…be…" He told him, bringing his hand up to cup Spike's face. "Y-you did...nothing…w-wrong. You're a…good b-boy…S-sammy."

Spike's eyes widened at Bumblebee's words as if they were a holy epiphany. The young human let out a sob and nuzzled his face into the Autobot's hand, blood and tears smearing across his palm.

"B-bumblebee…" Spike sobbed, swallowing thickly.

"I need…f-for you to…be brave…" Bumblebee told him. "Can you…be brave…for me…S-sammy?"

Another sob escaped him as he coughed, pressing his face into Bumblebee's palm.

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His Mother's words floated back to him and seem to rest in his head like a fog.

"_Can you be brave for mommy?" _

He hadn't been brave for her. He had been scared; very scared. Was that why she was gone? Because he couldn't be brave for her? The mere thought of it pained his greatly. No more dieing, he didn't want to be sad anymore. He wanted bad things to stop happening. He wanted Bumblebee to be OK, he wanted to laugh again, he wanted…he wanted his Mother and Father back.

"Sammy?" Bumblebee's fading voice brought Spike back from his trance and prompted more tears.

"Uh-huh…I can," Spike replied unsteadily through the tears. "I'll be brave…"

"Good boy," Bumblebee replied faintly.

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"OK," Mirage said hurriedly. "The worse hit cables and lines are closed off, but you need immediate attention; you've lost a lot of Energon. The comms are still not working so we gotta work fast."

Mirage forced a hand underneath the Minibot as if to push him upright, but Bumblebee protested.

"No…" He said weakly. "…faster..i-if y-you…just…g-go…Take…s-Spike…"

"No!" Spike refused, grasping tighter to Bumblebee's hand. "Won't leave!"

Mirage was in no mood to debate the subject and Bumblebee didn't have that sort of time to spare. Quickly getting to his feet, Mirage stepped around Bumblebee to fetch the boy who struggled violently against the spy's grip. As he was lifted off the ground, Spike tried desperately to keep a hold onto Bumblebee. Little hands grasped onto sleek black fingers. Bumblebee's energy depleted form let his arm to fall back down to the ground and as the black fingers slipped out of Spike's hands, the boy began to cry and scream.

"Bumblebee!"

Mirage secured the squirming boy in the crook of one arm, ignoring his cries, and placed a bracing hand on his comrade's shoulder.

"Hang on Bumblebee," Mirage told him. "I'll be back; I promise."

Bumblebee nodded slightly before slipping into emergency stasis.

Shooting to his feet, Mirage turned and began running as fast as he could down the street back to the Ark with a distraught child wailing in his arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's notes:** Hey everyone! Sorry about the lack of updates. But here I am now! Ha ha! Thank you for all your reviews everyone, I really appriciate it. And once again, thanks to my wonderful Beta, Epona Harper.

Please read and review! And don't forget to enjoy. :)

**Chapter 8 **

Huffer quietly mumbled to himself as he paced in front of the entrance to the Ark hefting the awkwardly large blaster that was the designated weapon for sentries. The sun's early morning light was just managing to peek over the mountain tops and shine down into the valley. It looked as though today would be a beautiful day. Sun rays gleamed off the Autobot's armor, the opaque purple and grays shone brighter then they ever would under normal lighting; Huffer hated it.

The sun always conflicted with his optical software, the early morning chill always made his joints stiff, and when it finally did creep to a satisfactory temperature it would only remain as such for less then a breem before it climbed up to a degree that made his lubricants evaporate.

Sentry duty was not his forte. He would have been much better suited doing the things his function dictated; which were nothing even close to sentry duty. He was a construction engineer. All his life he had built things; buildings, bridges, roads, etc. And he was damn good at it, too. Even when the wars started up on Cybertron, he was still doing his job. Only he was constructing barriers and fortresses instead. If the war had done him any good at all, it had vastly improved his craft and the need for it, but any benefit that comes as result of war always leaves one with a bad taste.

So, when Optimus Prime had come to him and requested his presence on a particular mission that could potentially end the wars, he eagerly agreed. However, he soon realized the blunder of the decision he had made, and he had regretted it ever since.

Now he was stranded on some mud ball of a planet with a ship full of glitches, far from home, and with no indication of a rescue party in sight.

With his already bitter mood firmly set, Huffer knew for a fact that the day was going to get a lot worse when he spotted the tall form of Mirage came sprinting up the hill; the small fleshling Bumblebee had adopted the previous week in the crook of his arm. The human was screeching and wailing harder and louder than Huffer had ever heard, and his audios ached and protested at the noise.

Leaning the blaster against his leg, Huffer raised both hands to cover his offended audio receptors. Mirage stopped just a few feet in front of the sentry before taking the human in both hands and thrusting the child into Huffer's chest, forcing him into holding it.

Before Huffer could offer any form of protest beyond a started '_eh!_' Mirage began barking orders in a demanding and harsh voice very uncharacteristic of the normally mild and politely indifferent spy.

"Code Delta-5! Bumblebee's been hurt and he needs help now! Tell Wheeljack to prep the Medbay and gather the strike force. I want you all down there in a breem!"

With that said Mirage turned to leave.

"Wait!" Huffer cried, hefting the crying boy. "What do you want me to do with _this_?!"

"Hand him to someone!" Mirage called back before lunging forward into transformation and zooming off down the hill back towards Burbank.

Huffer sneered after the spy before turning his irritated gaze down to the organic in his arms. The child had ceased his wailings, and was now staring up at him with large round eyes, sniffling as fluids dripped from his optics and nose. His skin had been ruptured and was leaking organic plasma down his cheek. Huffer could feel the boy's entire body shivering.

"B-bumblebee…" The little boy whimpered.

Huffer turned on his heals and rushed into the Ark.

"Wheeljack!"

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When Huffer stormed into the Medbay, trampling through the carefully sorted pieces of machinery and parts, Wheeljack spun around fully intending to explain, in no uncertain terms, his extreme displeasure at the destructive interruption.

However, his angry flare suddenly extinguished the instant his optics caught sight of the small human boy Huffer held at arms length, almost as if the Autobot was afraid of some sort of contamination.

Spike's face was stained with tears and smeared with dirt as well as blood oozing from a gash on his left cheek. Wheeljack jumped to his feet and carefully tip-toed around the mechanical paraphernalia.

The boy was quietly whimpering, his eyes darting around the room almost in a panicked desperation. When he saw Wheeljack, he cried out and raised his arms to him.

"What happened?" Wheeljack demanded as he took Spike from Huffer. The Autobot engineer tip-toed back around the spread-out pieces of machinery, deposited the boy on an examination table, and began to access the damage.

"Mirage says Bumblebee's been hurt down in the human settlement," Huffer replied. "He wants the Medbay prepped and the strike force assembled and down there in a breem…"

Wheeljack's head snapped around to look at the minibot, "Well, go get everyone then!"

Huffer sneered at him before turning back around and headed out the door at a brisk jog. "I'm going, I'm going…"

Wheeljack turned back towards Spike, bending low to get a good view of his injuries. "You okay kiddo?"

Spike whimpered and shook his head. "B-bumblebee... he got hurt…"

Wheeljack reached under the examination table to retrieve a towel from one of the drawers. Gently, Wheeljack wiped the blood from Spike's cheek and tried to get as much of the dirt off as he could without causing the boy anymore stress or pain.

"Don't worry about 'Bee," Wheeljack told him. "When the others bring him in I'll fix him up right, and he'll be back to his cheerful self in no time. OK?"

Spike coughed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "Uh-huh…"

Wheeljack tossed the towel to the side of the table before turning to the many bits and pieces littering the floor.

He sighed in resignation.

Retrieving a large bin from the corner of the room, Wheeljack began to scoop up the components. After the floor was clear of all parts, Wheeljack turned back to Spike who, thankfully, was still in the same spot where he had left the boy. Spike was tentively touching the side of his cheek. The action apparently caused some sort of discomfort as the contact prompted more tears.

Pushing the rather hefty bin back into place and out of the way, Wheeljack walked the short distance back to the boy. Just as he was about to try and calm him, the Medbay doors opened and Red Alert walked in. The red and white and black Mech strode into the center of the bay purposefully and with a dignified air about him.

"Huffer just informed me Bumblebee's been injured," The security officer said. His gaze flickered down to Spike and the sides of his mouth twitched in a brief frown before he returned his attention back to Wheeljack. "Do you require any aid with the repairs or in prepping the Medbay?"

Wheeljack ignored Red Alert for a moment while he turned to scoop up Spike.

"No," He said simply. "But something I do need is for someone to keep an optic on Shorty here until I'm finished repairing Bumblebee and I can attend to his own injuries."

Red Alert's optics widened and he stared dumbly at the engineer. The dignified air he strode in with suddenly vanished. "…w-what…?"

"Could you watch Spike while I get the bay ready?" Wheeljack asked, rewording the question.

"I…uh-well I…" Red Alert stammered before he got a hold of his thought processes. "I don't think I'm the best suited for such a-"

"Everyone else is down in town and Jazz hasn't returned from his rendezvous with Cosmos yet," Wheeljack said pointedly. "Look Red, I know you don't think too highly of him, but, right now, all I need from you is to make sure he remains functioning for the next few hours until someone else can take over. That's all I'm asking."

Wheeljack stood before Red Alert, waiting for a reply.

Red Alert stared back at the engineer, his mouth twitching as if he was physically keeping himself from vocalizing his true opinion. His cognitive processes were working overtime to think of an adequate excuse as to why he couldn't watch the human for a short period of time; none presented themselves.

Red Alert sighed and lowered in head slightly almost in a defeated kind of way. "Very well," he said and brought his hands out to take the child.

As Wheeljack moved to transfer him to Red alert, Spike openly and resentfully protested the decision by crying and wiggling.

Red Alert frowned. _Primus, help me…_

"None of that," Wheeljack told the boy firmly. "Be good for Red Alert or I won't be able to fix Bumblebee. You _want _Bumblebee to get better don't you?"

Spike looked up at the masked Mech with watery eyes, his bottom lip sticking out in a pout. "Y-yeah…"

"Then you need to behave for Red Alert, okay?" Wheeljack asked him with a stern optic.

Spike turned to glare at the large red and white Mech, who returned the sentiment with a glare of his own. The boy made a low mumbling noise, similar to a growl, which Wheeljack took as a reluctant 'yes' and handed the child over without further protests.

"Bumblebee has some human things in his quarters to occupy his attention," Wheeljack said as he turned to begin prepping the Medbay. "I think he'll be more comfortable - and possibly more cooperative - in there."

"Um…thank you, Wheeljack."

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_I'm gonna kill him_, Sideswipe fumed silently as he raced through Burbank in vehicle mode, his brother and the rest of the strike force followed suit and navigated carefully through all the debris. _He yells at us 'cause the kid falls over and then he goes and does this?! What the slag was he thinking? Primus! Bumblebee better be alright fraggit…I still need to kick his sorry aft!_

Mirage's beacon signal was blaring on his sensors, and he pushed his wheels harder than he had ever tried when there wasn't a Seeker on his bumper. Beside him, Sunstreaker pushed to keep pace with his brother, and the slower vehicle forms of Trailbreaker and Huffer labored behind. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker's alt modes allowed them maneuverability and speed that the two older Autobots could only dream of. They darted around chunks of concrete and toppled buildings, accelerating when the road was less cluttered.

Mirage's beacon signal was close now, very close.

They saw the spy before they caught sight of Bumblebee. His small form was laid on the floor of the street, a large gapping hole blasted in his side. Freshly spilled Energon and coolants pooled around the little Autobot. Sideswipe mentally growled.

It had been a long time since he had seen one of his friends in such a state… Mirage had done emergency repairs, but Bumblebee was still in danger.

As the two Lamborghinis reached their position, they transformed and knelt beside Mirage. Sideswipe looked at Bumblebee with narrowed optics and, beside him, Sunstreaker looked on with an equally dark glare

"Where are the others?" Mirage demanded.

"They're coming," Sideswipe replied. "There's a lot of junk to maneuver around, slowing 'em down a bit."

Mirage snorted. Placing a hand on Bumblebee's chest, he addressed the two younger Autobots.

"When they get here, have them transport Bumblebee back to the Ark," Mirage said as he stood up, pulling the rifle from his back.

Sideswipe started.

"But Sunny and I can take him!" Sideswipe protested. "We can't wait for-"

"No," Mirage shook is head. "I need you two for something else. When they have Bee, join me. We're going to scour the city for anymore…" The Autobot's gaze flickered over to where Ravage's body lay, "…infestations. Ravage got this close to our base of operations without us knowing it. That's a problem."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker nodded.

"We have to fortify our base's parameter before something worse gets through. If there's anymore of Megatron's spies out here, I want to find them now before they get away."

As Mirage turned to go, the sound of Trailbreaker and Huffer's engines drew near.

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_Why is Primus's good name did I agree to this?_

Red Alert sat on Bumblebee's vacant berth, one arm propped up on his knee with his head resting in his hand. The security officer stared dejectedly over at the wailing human child and vowed he would never be left to care for the boy ever again.

Spike sat on his recharge pad crying and screaming. The boy stopped for a short second to take a deep breath and continued on.

Not too long into the episode, Red Alert snapped.

"Could you be quiet?!" Red Alert hollered. Spike abruptly went silent, blinked at the Mech, and started crying again; louder and more deliberately then ever.

Red Alert growled and rubbed the sides of his helm lethargically. How did Wheeljack put up with this boy?! All the human did was cry and make messes…and cry! How did you get it to be quiet?

A sudden thought occurred to him and he mentally palm-faced as he remembered how Wheeljack had silenced the boy not but a few breems ago.

"If you don't cease your crying," Red Alert said, raising his voice as to be heard over Spike's wails and pointing a finger for extra emphasis, "Wheeljack won't fix Bumblebee!"

Spike's crying slowly subsided and he stared at the security officer, complexion red and cheeks damp with tears. "B-bumble…bee?"

Internally, Red Alert cheered victoriously at succeeding in quieting the boy – at least for the moment, but kept his expression placid and mild.

"That's right," He told the boy. "Remember what Wheeljack said to you? He needs you to behave while he repairs Bumblebee."

Spike looked down at his feet and his posture slumped as he recalled the engineer's words. Looking back up at Red Alert Spike sniffed and wiped away some of the tears from his face with the back of his hand. He looked at him uncertainly for a few long moments.

"I-is…will B-bumblebee…be okay?" Spike asked.

Red Alert's irritation suddenly dropped several increments as he took in the pitiful sight before him; a teary eyed human youngling, orphaned, and alone asking whether or not one of his comrades that had acted as the boy's primary guardian over the last week or so would be all right. Red Alert's cognitive processes scoffed and said 'Of course!' while another part of his mind remained silent and slightly…sympathetic.

"Bumblebee will live to regret his poor capacity for logic," Red Alert replied, shoving down the sudden and momentary wave of empathy he had just experienced with a mighty thrust of will.

Spike just stared bemusedly at him.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Red Alert revised his answer, "Yes, he will be fine."

The boy swallowed thickly and nodded.

"O-okay….m'sorry…I'll be good."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author' Notes:** Sorry for the late update everyone and thanks for sticking with this story as far as you have. I hope to make the wait worth what is to come. Enjoy! )

**Chapter 9 **

When his optics fluttered open, several things occurred to him simultaneously. He was no longer lying in the Burbank street, his body was stiff and slow in responding to his commands, and he was sore…oh _dear Primus,_ was he sore.

As his surroundings came into focus, Bumblebee immediately recognized the Medbay. The familiar orange metal ceiling greeted him like an old friend, and he felt an incredible sense of relief…and until he remembered what events had conspired to bring him there.

Sitting up quickly, and regretting it as his stiff and sore joints screamed obscenities at him, he quickly checked himself to find his injuries had been patched together with pieces of silver metal that had been welded over gaping holes in his frame. Seeing he was still in one piece, Bumblebee's optics then darted around the room as they searched for a familiar face. A momentary surge of panic swept over him as he realized neither Wheeljack nor Spike was present in the Medbay. In fact, he was all alone.

He was ready to jump off the berth he was laying on when the sound of the Medbay door opening caught his audios.

A grim-looking Wheeljack walked into the room and, at seeing his stance, Bumblebee immediately feared the worst. But Wheeljack suddenly perked up as he caught site of him.

"Bumblebee?" Wheeljack's head fins flashed cheerily as he ambled up to the yellow scout. "How're you feeling, buddy?"

"Where's Spike?" Bumblebee asked anxiously. "Is he OK?"

Wheeljack seemed startled at the force of the question, but he titled his head ever so slightly in amusement as he regarded his smaller companion. "Don't worry about it; he's being taken care of."

Bumblebee relaxed marginally. "He's ok then?"

"Yep. All injuries were superficial; nothing too hard to take care of. Although we may need to make another run to that human distribution station. The first aid kit you found is running out of bandages and disinfectant very quickly."

Bumblebee smiled briefly before it faded and he lowered his head in shame.

"I'm such an idiot…" Bumblebee muttered under his breath.

"Yep," Wheeljack replied as he walked over to one of the counters to retrieve a small box of assorted tools and instruments. Bringing the box over to Bumblebee's berth and setting it beside him, the engineer motioned for Bumblebee to raise his arm so he could better see the injury. "You're lucky Ratchet's in Europe. Had you pulled something like this while he was here…" Wheeljack chuckled as he took an unnamed instrument and began to remove the patch from Bumblebee's side, "…you'd be welded to the ceiling for the next three orns."

Bumblebee merely grunted in acknowledgement, preferring not to think too deeply in how everyone would receive him after he recovered. Sure he'd gotten himself hurt doing something very stupid, but he had also put Spike in mortal danger. And he had been hurt.

Then Bumblebee remembered something else.

"Wheeljack?"

"Hm?" The engineer didn't make eye contact with the yellow Minibot, but kept his focus on removing the metal patch to examine the repairs and how well Bumblebee's own systems were taking over the job of healing.

"I found something in town, just before Ravage ambushed us," Bumblebee said, his tone serious. "Some dark, dried liquid. I think it might be-"

"I already know Bumblebee," Wheeljack replied, the grimness from earlier returning and he paused in his work, gazing down at the floor. "I found the samples when you were brought in."

"And?"

Wheeljack raised his head and his optics dimmed.

"It's human blood."

Bumblebee was silent.

"And there's more," Wheeljack paused before he continued, "Mirage and the Twins did an in depth sweep of Burbank after you were brought in. Mirage wanted to flush out anymore of Megatron's spies that might be lurking around."

When Wheeljack hesitated, Bumblebee urged him to continue, "And?"

"They found something…" Wheeljack replied. "Mirage thinks they might have found Spike's parents. And several others too."

Wheeljack let those words soak in as he sat down his tool, bent down, and retrieved something from the subspace compartment in his leg. "One of them had a Military ID tag on him."

Wheeljack brought out his fist and slowly uncurled his fingers from around the tiny tag. It was nothing more then a small piece of metal, a name and serial number pressed into it, with a thin chain laced through a hole that had been punched at the top. But in a strange way, it held so much more meaning for them, and perhaps for Spike.

Bumblebee looked down at the tag and read the name.

"_William James Witwicky_," he read, not bothering to recite the serial number that followed. "I thought all the soldiers were rounded up and killed months ago…"

"As did I." Wheeljack replied quietly. "Looks like the 'Cons missed one."

A thick silence hung over them as they both took in the pitiful and yet powerful sight of the ID tag laying innocently in Wheeljack's open palm.

"Does Spike know?" Bumblebee asked slowly.

Wheeljack shook his head.

"We haven't told him," Wheeljack replied, closing his fingers around the tag and placing it back into subspace. "We don't know how."

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Trailbreaker stood motionless at the entrance to the Ark. Sundown was his favorite time to be on sentry duty, but something was different this time. He wasn't enjoying the colorful display that the setting of the system's star below the horizon as he normally did. Instead, his processor was fixated on images from that day's events.

Bumblebee had been in bad shape when they reached him. His entire side had a whole blasted through. Mirage said something about him and the twins scouring the rest of the human settlement, but Trailbreaker barely heard a word. He was more occupied with getting Bumblebee back to the Ark then anything the spy was saying.

He and Huffer had a difficult time transporting the offline form of their comrade through the city. It had been a feat of engineering that was certain, but lucky enough, such things were Huffer's specialty. The Medbay was ready and waiting for them when they arrived and Wheeljack had set right to work on repairing Bumblebee. It was then that he and Huffer were shooed away to spend the next few hours waiting for news on the small scout's condition.

Wheeljack emerged from the confines of the Medbay some hours later to announce all repairs had been completed without incident. Also, that a little rest Bumblebee would be back on his feet within the next 24 hours.

It had been good news to hear – welcomed even, but the news that followed via Mirage had quickly sucked all joy from the Ark. He and the Twins had made a grim discovery during their detailed search of Burbank; the bodies of four humans that had been stored away in an ally close to the edge of the town. They had been slaughtered, every one of them. Rigor mortis and decay had already taken a strong hold over the cadavers, indicating they had been deceased for well over a week, possibly two.

No one spoke aloud of it, but they all thought the same thing: were Spike's parents among them? And if so, which ones?

Mirage had gone back into town after turning in the twins and his report to retrieve the bodies. If they could do anything for them, giving them a proper human burial seemed obligatory.

Jazz was going to have a lot to deal with when he returned.

Trailbreaker's optics caught a glint of sunlight as it bounced off the metal chest of Mirage as he trekked up the hill, a large container in his arms.

Trailbreaker sighed and walked forward to help him with his burden.

It was going to be a long night.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Red Alert could not recall a time when he was so overjoyed to see Sunstreaker. In fact, he was quiet sure there had never been such a time. The golden warrior stood motionless in the threshold of Bumblebee's quarters, glaring into the room at the security officer and his young human charge.

At the time, Red Alert was, quite literally, at the mercy of the small, organic biped. After Spike had finally stopped crying, the young human had decided that Red Alert would make a wonderful new toy. He had then begun to explore every open section of Red Alert's armor that he could reach, going so far as to trying to crawl into the space between his leg armor and hip.

By the time Sunstreaker entered, Red Alert was near his rope's end. Spike had taken a small, strange object from the box of Human things Bumblebee had collected, and begun to wrap the thin piece of organic twine that protruded from the little green disk around his finger.

Red Alert stared into Sunstreaker's face and resisted the urge to smile.

"Hey, Red," Sunstreaker said, his voice oddly gloomy — even for him. "I've come to relieve you of Shorty."

"Thank Primus," Red Alert said and stood up, handing the boy to Sunstreaker eagerly.

After the transfer had been made, Red Alert carefully plucked at the organic twine around his finger and tossed it aside. Looking back up, he noticed the peculiar way in which Sunstreaker was staring at Spike. His optics were dim, and his mouth was a thin line.

Red Alert suddenly felt a sense of dread sweep over him.

"Is Bumblebee still functional?" Red Alert asked.

The security officer's words seem to startle Sunstreaker from his thoughts and he looked up, optics immediately turning back to their normal brilliancy and his mouth quirking back into his ever present frown.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Wheeljack's with him now," he said. "Said he should be back on his feet within the next day or so."

"All right. That's good to hear," Red Alert replied. He then scrutinized the yellow Mech with a suspicious optic. "Are you certain everything is fine?"

Sunstreaker scowled. "_Yes_, Red. Bumblebee's fine."

"Then enlighten me as to why your behavior is so much…gloomier then usual," Red Alert frowned at the Mech.

Sunstreaker regarded the security Mech with a tense optic and for a long moment was silent.

"Talk to Mirage about it," he said finally. "He wants to talk to you about a revised security outline anyway."

Shoving off his irritation, Red Alert pulled himself to stand straight and nodded to Sunstreaker. "Very well, have him meet me in my office and we'll discuss the matter."

"Sure," Sunstreaker muttered and moved aside to allow Red Alert to pass by. As the Mech strode purposefully down the hallway, Sunstreaker returned his gaze down to the little human in his hands.

"You're very quiet," He said to the little boy in an accusatory tone. Spike simply starred up into the Mech's face, green eyes betraying the fear he felt.

"Can we go see Bumblebee?" he asked meekly.

Sunstreaker smirked and shrugged. "Sure, why not? Let's go see how the Witless Wonder's doing."

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

"After searching Burbank in detail," Mirage said firmly as he sat opposite from Red Alert who was listening intently from his seat behind his desk, "I have come to the conclusion that our base is far more exposed then we previously believed."

Red Alert nodded. "It has been a concern of mine since Prime left for Europe. I assume you have a proposal that may subtract from the current security risks?"

"I do," Mirage replied. "As we saw today, the ruins of Burbank provide excellent cover for any spies that may be lurking around. Not only that, but with the ruins so close to our base, it could provide our enemies with an invaluable foothold if and when they decide to attack us. We neutralized Ravage, but Megatron has many more spies at his disposal. There will be more."

Mirage paused, but Red Alert made no move to speak, but looked as though he was waiting for the spy to continue.

"I suggest we fortify our base using the recycled materials from the human settlement. Needless to say it will take a significant effort to demolish the remaining structures and separate the various materials into usable and usable, but I foresee a substantial benefit if we so choose to follow through. Even with our limited Mech-power, I don't believe we will have any trouble completing the modifications."

Red Alert sat quietly in his chair, seeming to star off into space as he considered Mirage's words. The thoughtful frown on his face slowly deepened.

"It is an excellent idea." Red Alert replied finally. "I will be sure to inform Jazz. He will have to confirm with Prime before we start any-"

"There's more," Mirage cut in. Red Alert seemed slightly surprised and a little irritated at the interruption. Mirage never interrupted. The security officer leaned back in his chair and looked on expectantly.

"Yes?"

"I believe we should establish a camp near the base," Mirage replied, "for human refugees."

Red Alert's optics narrowed abruptly.

"We should be helping the humans any way we can. I believe by providing a safe haven for them, we could better establish a sort of alliance with them."

"I disagree," Red Alert replied flatly. He did not sound pleased.

"Optimus Prime made treaties with the European and Asian countries and our efforts over there are taking fruit. The Decepticons are being forced back into the east."

"That is a very different situation," Red Alert said, "The European and Asian nations have remained somewhat stable since the invasion. North America and the infrastructure of its established nations have collapsed. The humans that remain have no system of formal allegiance or government. Besides," Red Alert's optics narrowed to thin slits and he seemed to stare at open air, "I'm certain they would have no intention of allying themselves with us. Unlike the Asians and Europeans, the Americans do not distinguish Autobot from Decepticon. All they know is their lives were destroyed after we awoke. To them, all Transformers are enemies."

"Then we'll take in those who want protection." Mirage countered. "Those wandering herds of humans are just what the Decepticon need to fuel their refineries."

"And what makes you think that if those humans were under our protection that the Decepticons would not still pursue them?" Red Alert replied. "I'm sorry Mirage, but the risks outweigh the benefits."

"How can you say that?" Mirage demanded, his voice raising to volume and a tone that no one had ever heard from the spy. "These are hundreds, possibly thousands, of living, _sentient_ creatures! And you're simply going to turn away from them?"

"They would not want our help in any case." Red Alert added acidly.

"How do you know that?"

"You forget, Mirage," Red Alert said cautiously with an undertone of ire. "I was there when Megatron destroyed Washington DC. I know what humans are capable of when their reduced to their primitive organic programming."

Mirage's expression suddenly softened, but the displeasure did not disappear altogether.

He knew what Red Alert was referring to and even the mere memory of it made him pause in rueful recollection.

"I know what the humans think of us. Nothing can wipe those images from their minds…nor mine. Nothing we do will ever sway them to believe we share a common enemy. Had they the means, they would kill us all and think nothing of it."

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

By the time Mirage left the Security Officer's office, he felt as though he needed a few good long hours on the firing range to bring him back down from his rolling boil. As was his nature, Mirage began the mental process of calming his irritated systems. The technique was one of many he had been taught as a young Mech attending Iacon Academy that he still used on a routine basis.

Red Alert's words seemed to have bitten onto him and wouldn't let go. His attention was diverted however when the red form of Sideswipe stepped up beside him, matching the spy's rapid pace.

"I take it Red wasn't too thrilled with my addition to your security upgrade proposal?" The Mech asked.

Mirage forced a smile, though there was no joy in it.

"_Your _addition?"

Sideswipe smirked. "Yeah, _my_ addition."

Mirage's smile quirked into a semi amused grin and his irritation from earlier faltered momentarily.

"No, Red Alert was adamant that we remove that particular article from the proposal before proceeding with any of it." He replied. "I suppose we should consider it a small victory he agreed to any part of the proposal."

"But Red's a security nut," Sideswipe observed, "Why would he **not** want to upgrade security?"

"It's not that he doesn't want to upgrade the security of the base. It's…hard to explain."

For a long moment Mirage and Sideswipe walked along the empty halls of the Ark in silence as the blue and white Mech struggled to congeal his thoughts.

"Do you recall the vote Prime had us take after we awoke, about a month or so? Who wanted to stay and who wanted to go?"

Sideswipe nodded, "Yeah. So?"

"Red Alert was part of the party that voted that we leave Earth," Mirage said. "He's hesitant to make any sort of move that makes it seem like we're staying long term."

"But we are."

"Red Alert still believes we have the means to leave Earth and return to Cybertron."

"You mean he _wants_ to leave Earth and go back to Cybertron."

"Essentially."

"And he told you all this?" Sideswipe asked incredulously.

"No. I'm simply adept at reading Mechs. Think if it as a prerequisite for espionage."

"Ah, well that makes sense, I guess. But really isn't it Jazz's choice?"

"In essence, it is Optimus Prime's final decision. However, for that request to get to Prime it has to be approved by Jazz."

"And before it gets to Jazz it's gotta be approved by Red Alert," Sideswipe sighed in resignation. "Don't you just love bureaucracy?"

Mirage merely grunted and the duo walked along in silence.

"Jazz got back a few minutes ago." Sideswipe said, breaking the silence. "Saw him in the Rec room talking with Trailbreaker. They looked pretty fritzed about whatever they were talking about, too."

"Today just keeps getting better and better," Mirage replied as he and Sideswipe rounded a corner and found themselves in the Medbay corridor. The door to the 'bay opened obligingly as they stepped up.

Walking through the entrance they seemed to have walked into the middle of some form of drama already in progress. Mirage didn't immediately notice Sunstreaker leaning against the wall next to them, expression dour. Farther into the room, Wheeljack stood next to a berth that currently held the form of Bumblebee, little Spike cradled in the yellow minibot's arms. Both Mech's optics dimmed as they stared at the boy, both looking somewhat…forlorn.

It was only until Mirage caught sight of the tiny, barley discernable, metal chain and tag Wheeljack was offering to the little human that he understood what had transpired before he and Sideswipe entered.

They had just told the small child his parents were dead.

The small, muffled, whimper that the little boy gave as his small hands enclosed around the tiny trinket was a sound Mirage did not believe he would ever forget.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Author's Notes:_** I'm sure you all hate me for being soooo late with this. Well, I can't really account for my absence other then...I didn't feel like writing. I hate forcing myself to write an update. I like to be having fun with it. I think creativity is more potent when it's willing rather then forced. Forced creativity is like constipation...if you try too hard you're gonna make a mess and hurt yourself. Not good for anyone. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. More to come I promise.

Please review, it makes me happy. And I like being happy.

* * *

Chapter Ten.

"Retreat!" Ultra Magnus's voice rang clear through the deafening sounds of gunfire and dying howls of various Mechs. The Hub had been ripped open by a massive explosion. Debris was everywhere and still-active wiring flailed and sparked. Flickers of light and sharp sounds riddled the scene. "Retreat!"

Beside Magnus, Kup snarled. The old Mech was hunched down behind a pile of debris and returning fire when the order was given.

"Slaggit!" Kup fired three more shots before getting up and complying with his commander's orders. 'After all this time,' Kup thought bitterly. "After all we worked for, sacrificed for…it's all been for nothing!"

He looked back towards the other two Mechs who had also taken refuge behind the piles of wreckage and were still firing on the approaching enemy - one with red armor, the other with light blue. "C'mon, Blur! Blaster!"

"Justonemoreshot! Justonemoreshot!"

"No time, Blur," Blaster yelled over the roaring din of battle. The red Mech gripped the blue Mech's shoulder and pulled him up as he stood. "Retreat order's been given!"

"IhadaDecepticononinmyscope!" Blur snapped irately. "Icouldhavetakenhimout!"

"Live to kill another orn, Blur," Blaster replied as they began to run away from the battle, jumping over jagged pieces of metal and even the bodies of fallen Autobots.

"But—"

"No arguing, motor-mouth!" Kup barked at Blur from up ahead.

And, for once, Blur complied with an order to be silent. Had the situation been appropriate, Blaster would have pointed out this momentous occasion. However, running for one's life was not a good time in which to be spouting jokes.

Somehow, they managed. The Decepticon forces had not only found the main Autobot resistance Hub, but had also taken out several of their branching forts, making the possibility for reinforcements non-existent. The Decepticons came fully prepared, armed to the back rotors with weapons that had not seen the light of battle for vorns due their to extreme energy expenditures. This gave them an insurmountable advantage. It had been a clear, concise plan resulting in a killing blow for the Autobots.

There was a complete collapse of command among the Autobots early on in the battle. Mechs began to panic when they realized their weapons were having no effect on the Decepticon's shields, and they began to make mistakes as they tried to fend off the invading enemy forces. This only weakened their already wavering hold on the base. And now the retreat order had been given.

Ultra Magnus was abandoning base.

Blaster mentally and audibly, cursed. How had the Decepticons found them? Had an Autobot scout been followed by a 'Con spy? Had there been an infiltrator? Or was this a result of someone's reckless mistake? Thousands of questions, many of them that would probably never be answered, ran through his processor. His mind heated with rage and all he wanted to do was _hit_ something. Hard.

Despite his anger, he knew the ultimate cause was not of any importance, at least at the moment. What mattered was getting everyone who was still functioning, out of harm's way and coming up a plan to retaliate. If they _could_ retaliate.

Though at that moment its existence was completely forgotten, deep within his processor existed a vital piece of information; the location of a small blue planet.

A planet called Earth.

* * *

The Rec room was vacant save for two figures occupying a lone table towards the far corner. Bumblebee sat in his seat while Spike sat atop the table, glancing vaguely at the cans of food laid out before him. Bumblebee picked up one of the cans and offered it to the little boy.

Spike took the can and set it in his lap, looking down at the contents. Fingers prodded absently at yellow chunks of some nameless fruit, occasionally dipping into the can in order to pick one up. The boy ate a few pieces before pushing the remainder away. Bumblebee watched the process with growing concern.

"C'mon, Sammy." Bumblebee coaxed, pushing the can back towards the child. "You got to eat."

Spike got to his feet, ignoring the food, and stood in front of the Autobot, hands raised expectantly. "Up."

Bumblebee regarded him for a moment and obligingly picked the boy up. As the child curled himself against the yellow metal, Bumblebee sighed.

It had been almost a week since they laid Spike's parents to rest, and the boy's appetite seemed to shrink day by day. Research into the worrisome behavior revealed that it was a common symptom during the early stages of mourning, as was his sudden need to constantly be around one of them (mostly Bumblebee) and wanting to be held and such. The clinginess Bumblebee could deal with, but the refusal to properly refuel was disconcerting.

They had buried the four slain humans together at the edge of the hill just outside the Ark's entrance. Trailbreaker and Bumblebee had dug the hole, six feet deep as human custom dictated, and laid their bodies into the earth and covered them with a mound of dirt. Several of the Ark-stationed Autobots found human death customs strange and frankly insulting.

"_Who would want to be buried in the ground?"_ Sunstreaker had exclaimed when the plans for the funeral were announced. _"Sounds more like a punishment than an honor to me." _

Wheeljack had volunteered to create a headstone and, using a laser scalpel, he carved the plaque from a granite block retrieved from the ruins of the Burbank Post Office. They knew Spike's parents' names, but the two others were nameless. It didn't seem right to honor only those whose names had been remembered. So Wheeljack scoured the human information network for a suitable epitaph that would honor them all, nameless or otherwise. Deciding to incorporate one that also adorned the grave of a famous human named Susan B. Anthony, the headstone read:

"_Liberty, Humanity, Justice, Equality."_

The door to the Rec room slide aside and a tall black and white Mech entered. Jazz paused in the door way before stepping into the room. He made his way over to Bumblebee, striding around the scattered tables, his soft steps seeming to betray his own worries. Upon reaching Bumblebee's table, the saboteur stood over the pair, and looked down at Spike. The little boy clung to yellow metal of Bumblebee's chest like a gecko. Jazz absently noted the small chain around the boy's neck, the tags having been tucked securely into his shirt.

"Kid still not eating?" Jazz asked Bumblebee sympathetically, bending down to peer at the human child.

"Not much." Bumblebee shook his head, looking thoroughly concerned, but added slightly more optimistically, "He's drinking water all right, but he won't eat more than a few bites of food."

Jazz reached out and gently ran the tip of one finger across Spike's head. The brown mess of fluffy hair turned and bright green eyes gazed up at him.

Jazz smiled weakly and said, "Heya, kiddo."

"Hi…" Spike replied, somewhat distractedly.

There was a moment's pause.

"I don't know what to do, Jazz," Bumblebee admitted. "He can't go on like this forever."

"Don't worry Bee," Jazz assured the scout and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Wheeljack said he might have come up with something that might help the little guy, but there's no guarantee it'll get him to start eating right again. Why don't we head up there now and see what he's got cookin'?"

Bumblebee managed a small, somewhat forced, smile and nodded, but said nothing. Moving his arms slowly so as not to jostle the boy too much, Bumblebee shifted his grip and stood, then followed Jazz out of the Rec room. He silently hoped that whatever Wheeljack had thought of would work.

* * *

The hot sun beat down on their exposed necks. Aching feet screamed curses with each wobbling step, and fingertips throbbed with each beat of their tired hearts as their backs bent under the weight of the remainder of their worldly possessions.

The eldest of the group was thirty-two years old while the youngest was five. Possibly six, but, since none of them had a calendar or watch, it was hard to tell the exact passage of time with any sort of accuracy.

There were five of them in total, the eldest being in the lead. His short, jet-black hair was covered with an old, dusty, cowboy hat with a bronze steer-head ornament hanging loosely by two pull-strings below his chin. Tattered t-shirt and jeans clothed him while his sore feet sweated in a pair of worn, running sneakers. His cheerless face, dusted with a five o'clock shadow, gazed ahead of the group, eyeing their blistering, black-tar encrusted path. Heat rose off the surface like a sizzling grill and the image awoke wonderful memories of weekend BBQs. But the small, happy balloon burst abruptly when the image of family and friends now gone joined the memory. He felt a sickening drop in his stomach and he pushed the images away, staring angrily at the path before him. His anger only seemed to add to the heat.

To his left, a younger man in his early twenties staggered and gripped onto the leader's shoulder to stabilize himself.

"You ok, Seth?" The older man asked. Seth had been a slim boy in the beginning of their journey, but had bulked up during the constant exertion of their travels. He was a young man with bright red hair and eyes as green as the Ireland countryside.

Seth wiped his forehead and groaned. "It's so damn hot…I dunno…how much longer I can go…"

Seth made a motion as if to sit down, but the older man sneered and hefted him back up.

"Oh, no you don't," he said. "You get to cook evenly with the rest of us."

"Joseph…" The soft voice of a woman whined from the back of the group. "Seth's right. We need to rest. Let's just set up the tarp and wait until the sun's not blaring down our backs. Maggie can't take much more of this heat without any water, and Claire needs a rest."

Joseph looked back towards the woman. Janine was her name. She was a good head shorter than him with light blond hair that seemed to have turned white in the heat and a slim build. Her face was red and her light freckles stood out starkly against the burned skin. She couldn't have been older than twenty-three.

Then he looked towards the last adult of their cluster, another woman named Claire, her stomach large with pregnancy, and the little girl at her side. Like her mother, the girl's dark skin was moist with perspiration and her normally fluffy mop of black hair was matted with sweat.

That decided him.

"All right. Ten minute shade break," he conceded. "Seth, help me with the tarp, will ya?"

There was a collective relieved and generally-happy sigh from the group as they went about unburdening themselves from backpacks and satchels and heavy jackets and windbreakers that seemed nothing but a nuisance and a burden in the hot sun. Joseph opened his bag and pulled out a bundle of grey plastic sheeting. White string was tied tightly around the bundle and, as the two men untangled it, the women began clearing a spot on the side of the road, brushing away sticks and rocks. When the tarp was untied, they brought the sheet over to the area the girls had cleared. Each of them scuttled under its protective shielding before Joseph pulled out two short, thin metal poles that looked as though they were from a camping tent. Seth and Claire, along with Maggie, took up spots near the far end of the tarp, tucking the excess material underneath them. Joseph passed one pole to Janine. They stabbed one end of each into the caked earth, taking several seconds to grind a suitably deep hole for the poles to stand securely, before feeding the top ends into holes in the tarp's rim. When the strange ritual was complete, they had a modest, make-shift shelter from the sun's rage.

For the last few months it had been their only reliable form of shelter and for the last week, it provided them with some relief from the fury of the western heat.

"The heat out here is ungodly!" Seth declared and he fished through his backpack. "I thought the west coast was supposed to have constant weather patterns. First the freezing snow and now burning dessert? This must be someone's idea of a cruel joke or someone must really hate us up there…or both. God, I'm really beginning to hate California. 'Safe haven' my ass."

"Seth!" Claire barked as she rushed to cover her child's ears.

"We just got out of the mountains Seth. Higher the altitude, the colder it is." Joseph replied as if he never heard Claire.

"And now we're frying to a crisp in frickin' Death Valley," He pulled out an orange chunky, boxy looking hand held radio and pulled up the antenna. When he flicked the on switch nothing happened…as he expected. The radio's batteries (the last of their supply) died three and a half weeks ago, while they were still crossing over the mountains. "Man, I hope we find some batteries soon so we can settle down for a while. This hopping around from place to place like Ninjas sucks."

"I agree…" Claire added, placing a tender hand on her baby bump.

"This hopping around from place to place like Ninjas' is _keeping us alive_," Joseph said pointedly. "I'd rather be freezing in the mountains or baking down here then being caught by one of those _machines_."

They had discovered, quite accidentally, that their hand held radio made a distinct squealing noise when one of the giant machines was near by. It had been their key advantage in keeping from being caught or killed. While there had been several close calls when they were still struggling to decipher the radio's range and accuracy, it had been remarkably smooth sailing. But now the batteries were dead, as was their advantage. Since then, Joseph had kept the group constantly on the move in case any of the alien machines were close. Claire's condition only made their movements even trickier.

"Amen," Janine contributed, earning a small, tired, smile from Joseph.

Claire hugged and rocked Maggie, wiping her hand continuously over the child's forehead and caressing her hair.

"Poor, baby-girl. Next town we stop at, I'm gonna get you some sunscreen. I promise. And a hat."

The little girl stirred in her mother arms and smiled. "A purple one. And one for the baby!"

Claire grinned. "Of course, honey."

"I hope the next town we hit is like the last one," Janine said, fingering the bottoms of her shoes. "We need to find a place to settle so we're prepared for when the baby comes. And I need new shoes. The soles on these ones are paper thin."

"I told you to grab some good sneakers when we stopped in flagstaff," Joseph said, gazing down at his own. "They last longer then those slip-on's. Easier to run in, too."

"Uh-huh," Janine replied, grimacing as she spotted a rip in the side of the shoe where the rubber met cloth. "Crap."

"Can we have some water, please?" Maggie asked, her soft voice cracking in her parched throat. Everyone turned to Joseph with hopeful eyes.

He sighed. "Yeah, but just enough to moisten your mouths. We don't know how long we gotta make this last."

General mutters of agreement went around as a bottle of water was pulled from a pack and passed around. They each took a tiny sip before it passed to the next person. It was an unspoken rule that Claire always went first and that she always got two sips, one for her and one for the unborn child in her womb. As the bottle reached Maggie, Joseph smiled, holding up two fingers.

"Mags can have two sips, too," he said, smiling, "You're starting to look like a piece of beef jerky there kiddo. And we're going to need you hydrated to help take care of the baby when it comes, right?"

"Yeah!" The little girl laughed, her small white teeth showing, revealing the gap on her lower jaw where she had lost a baby tooth the week before.

"Oh, please don't mention food…" Seth moaned, placing a sympathetic hand on his stomach.

Maggie's bubbly giggle was contagious as everyone chuckle along with her, including Seth.

"What do you say?" Claire asked her.

"Thank you, Joey," Maggie said as she took a second small sip.

"You're welcome, Mags."

Maggie was the only one that could get away with calling him _Joey. _To everyone else he was Joseph. Or a number of other names that weren't appropriate to repeat around a child Maggie's age. Joseph's smile widened when Claire caught his eye, mouthing a silent _thank you_ to him.

He nodded.

"So," Seth said as he passed the bottle to Joseph, who stowed it away into his pack. "What city do we reach next?"

Joseph sat back on his elbows, looking out across the California dessert just beyond the confines of their tarp-cum-tent, and said, "Burbank."


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's notes:_ Anyone hate me yet? Yeah I thought so.

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven**

Bumblebee sighed in relief to see that Spike had taken the water Wheeljack had offered willingly. Wheeljack and Jazz exchanged knowing glances and Bumblebee found himself smiling. Their little trick had worked perfectly and Bumblebee felt a little more at ease.

As Spike greedily gulped down the cool water, he was blissfully unaware of the vitamins, minerals, and nutrients that had been dissolved within; all the chemical requirements the human body needed in order to maintain proper and healthy function. Spike may not have been willing to eat just yet, but his body was not going to be deprived of the necessary nutrients that food provided. Not while several diligent and capable Mechanoids were on hand.

Wheeljack went to the corner wall to retrieve something and then turned to Bumblebee.

"Here," He held his hand out and deposited several small clear plastic bottles filled with the nutrient water into Bumblebee's hand. "Have him drink two of these a day. That should be sufficient enough to keep him functioning until he starts refueling on his own again. The internet article said this phase should only last about a week or so at most. He'll be fine."

Bumblebee accepted the water bottles and carefully stowed them away into a subspace pocket. On the table, Spike pulled the water bottle from which he was drinking away from his lips to look up into Bumblebee's optics. He blinked.

"Feeling any better?" The yellow Mech asked with a hopeful smile.

Spike nodded lethargically.

"Wonderful!" Wheeljack cheered. Beside him, Jazz smirked. Despite the happy moods of those around him, Spike still remained mournful and weary. His movements were slow and sluggish and he looked tired. His normally bright green eyes stared out dully at those around him and his little hands reached up to finger the cold metal tags around his neck. He sniffed and wiped his hand over his nose, before leaning back until he sat against Bumblebee's body.

Seeing Spike's behavior had still not changed from the previous days', Bumblebee regarded Wheeljack and Jazz with a troubled glance. A week of this seemed daunting.

* * *

"Man…this place looks like sh-!"

"Seth! Watch your language, boy." Claire hissed viciously beside him, pulling Maggie a little closer to her hip.

"Sorry," The red head squinted one eye and sent the mother and child an apologetic glance. "I mean- This place looks like…poo-poo."

Maggie giggled.

"Don't encourage him, Mags," Joseph said from his spot at the front.

The group stood together and took in the sight of Burbank...or at least what was left of it.

There were crumbling and toppled buildings, crushed cars, brickwork littering the streets, broken glass, and the trash, can not forget about the trash. It was everywhere. And almost as if to mock them, there were empty aluminum garbage cans toppled onto their sides rolling across the shattered sidewalk as a breeze passed.

"Everything looks so…broken," Janine commented, bending down and picking up what looked to be a piece of a plastic tire rim. "I wonder if there are any people around here…"

"Doubt it." Claire replied, staring up into the top most floors of the few buildings that remained standing. Their windows were broken, dusty, and dark.

"Somehow I thought this place would be a little more…intact." Seth kicked a rock with his foot and glancing at Joseph he said, "I thought the West Coast was supposed to have withstood the invasion?"

"That's what I thought too," Joseph muttered as he looked around. "Before communications went down, all the networks were saying that the machines first appeared in the East; Maine, Massachusetts, and New York… Everyone was saying to go West, that it was safer," There was a thoughtful pause, "Still, this place seems to have survived better then most of the other cities we've passed through. Some of theses shops look like they were looted, not destroyed. More likely, most of this was done by people, not the Machines."

"You don't think there are any machines here _now _do you?" Janine asked, her voice wavering slightly into fear. Claire unconsciously tightened her grip on her daughter's small hand.

"No," Joseph replied doubtfully, "But there's only one way to know for sure: Supply run, guys. Janine and I will go look for equipment and batteries, the rest of you go see if you can find any food or water. Well meet back here in an hour."

"Roger, roger," Seth replied, giving a curt salute before tromping off down the road, Maggie and Claire following close behind.

"Seth!" Joseph called. The red haired young man turned, arms spread as if to say _what? _"The radio."

"Oh-! Right." Seth stripped his pack from his shoulders, forged around for the radio, and tossed it to Claire, who handed it to Joseph.

"Be careful," Janine called after then as the group split; choosing different streets in which to forage for the various things they were in dire need of.

"Be safe!" Claire and Maggie waved back to Joseph and Janine.

"If you find any food don't let Seth eat it all!" Joseph called to them.

"Just try and stop me! Ha ha!" Seth's voice barked mockingly in the open air, growing vaguely faint. "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die fat and happy!"

* * *

The light evening breeze was full of sand and particles swept up from afar and carried away. His arms crossed over his chest and he looked around him as the wind pelted him with a light sprinkling of dust. The dirt beneath him brushed lightly against his feet and he walked onward before it could settle and sneak its way into his joints.

Mirage didn't bother concealing himself as he ambled through the Burbank ruins, noting various structures that could yield suitable building materials. Much of the brick work could be gathered and ground up to make cement and the buildings' metal inner frame work and rebar could be melted down and reshaped. As could the various human transport vehicles, or _cars_ as they were called. Where most of his comrades saw a decaying ruin, he saw great potential in the human city.

His musings, however, were cut short as a voice rang through the air, clear, in a sort of laughing tone, "If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die fat and happy!"

The voice surprised him just as much as what it said bemused him. And what's more, it was close. Mirage made his way over to the cover of a collapsed structure, activating his mirror coating, and waited. Not but a few minutes later, three small beings came into visual range. One of them was much shorter then the other two, the top of its cranial until not quite reaching the hip of the companion who held its hand.

_Humans_, Mirage thought to himself, somewhat surprised. _With a sparkling—er, child._

One of the older humans, as well as the child, had remarkably dark skin, much darker then Mirage was accustomed to seeing. The other human's hair was a bright red and its flesh was the pale hue he was more familiar with. He curiously noted that the darker adult's abdomen was oddly swollen and it took much more careful steps as it waddled around the debris, holding the child's hands.

_Could they be refinery escapees as well? _Mirage thought. Out of sheer habit, he checked his comm. channel. All he received was static. He suppressed a sigh, telling himself that it was hardly reasonable to assume Wheeljack had found any time in which to continue with the repairs when considering the events of the week. Nevertheless, he couldn't suppress his annoyance.

He watched the trio walk on through the street, picking their way around the debris, ever watchful of their step. As he observed the two darker colored humans (_females_, he realized) he noted the extra caution the elder took with the child. Stirring her around large debris and sharp metal while keeping her free hand on her abdomen, almost protectively so.

The male helped the swollen female over the large slab of concrete that had been flung across the street, blocking most of the path and forcing them to climb over. The child clambered onto the slab.

"Careful, baby," The older human female warned as she offered her hand to the child.

"I can do it." The child replied and hoped down off the concrete, wobbling slightly after impact. The child gazed up at the elder female and smiled. "See?"

She returned the smile.

"Good for you sweetie." The older female cheered before turning and called out to the male who had wandered ahead of them. "Seth wait for us, Joseph said to stay together."

"I think I see a Wal-Mart over there!" The red haired human replied, sounding remarkably excited. He then sprinted off down the street, hoping over chunks of concrete with ease, leaving the two females to play 'catch up'. "C'mon girls! Food! Water! Flushable toilets!"

The young child laughed and ran after the human called 'Seth'.

"Food!" She echoed, followed closely by the elder female, who Mirage was beginning to suspect might be the child's maternal procreator.

"Maggie, be careful!" She called after the girl.

When the three humans reached a suitable range ahead of him, Mirage left the cover of the tattered building and followed them, careful to keep a good distance away so as not to be heard.

* * *

"Wow. It's been a while since I've seen a RadioShack," Joseph commented as he and Janine walked into the decaying ruins of the store. The large windows had been shattered and there was a check out stand just beyond the entrance, its cash drawer hung out by rusted hinges, its contents long gone.

In the back of his mind, Joseph wondered why anyone would bother with stealing cash when there were much more useful things to be horded then greenbacks; Food, water, blankets, and medicine to name a few. Perhaps it was simple human greed; maybe the person or persons believed there would be an economy left after the end of the world. They certainly didn't expect to be able to _bribe_ the machines did they?

Most of the walls that once held electronic merchandise were reduced to shabby remnants. Packages of cables and strange little do-dads littered the floor, everything coated with dust and spider webs. At first glance, he worried if any batteries the store once contained had been taken during the looting, but much to his relief he found a large pack of rechargeables hidden under a display stand. Brushing off the dust, he grinned at package. Not only were they the right size for their radio, they were rechargeable! He ignored the small truth that they had no way of _recharging _them once they were drained and allowed himself at least a small little victory.

Behind him, Janine rummaged through the packages of wires and electronic devices.

"Should we take some of these wires?" She asked. "They may come in handy."

"Depends; what type are they and what could we use them for?" Joseph asked, "If we're taking on extra baggage we should at least have a plan for it."

"Well, we could add them to our first aid kit," She replied. "We don't have anything we could use as a tourniquet."

Joseph paused to send her a pointed look.

"Are we planning on running into anyone with a _gun_?"

She wasn't amused. "You can use a tourniquet on _more_ things then _gun shot_ wounds. What if someone cut their toe on glass or something? You can sever an artery in your toe and bleed to death, y'know."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I dropped a glass on my foot when I was 12 and severed an artery in my big toe," She replied, "Got rushed to the hospital and they gave me three stitches. I still have a scar"

Joseph juggled his bags and the batteries, trying to change the ones in the dead radio.

"Oh…okay, but find ones that aren't too stiff."

Janine dropped the package of wires she held, deciding instantly they were too stiff. She headed towards the back of the store, looking under displays and such to find any hidden gems that may have escaped the looters. Under one case that might have once held the newest brands of cell phones, she found a small plastic parcel. Reaching into the dust fill cavity, Janine pulled the object out. Whipping of the coating of dust, she smiled in satisfaction as the thin, malleable rubber tubes behind the plastic casing.

Joseph grunted as he nearly dropped the radio, the back casing in between his teeth, and his bags slipping alarmingly down his shoulder. He lifted one foot in an attempt to keep them up, while his one free hand struggled to exchange the batteries. Janine stared at the older man and snickered at him.

"Here," she said amiably as she walked over to him, setting the rubber tubes down atop the cashier counter, and mercifully taking his bags from him.

"Thanks," Joseph said, removing the radio backing from his mouth. Pushing the new batteries into the chamber with a _snap_, Joseph placed the backing into its rightful place and turned the radio over.

"And then God said, let there be _sound_!" Joseph declared, reaching for the radio's dial.

"You mean, 'let there be light'…" Janine said inanely.

"I _means_ what I _says_…" Joseph replied, quoting a character from a long forgotten book, and turned on the radio with a soft _click_.

A high pitched screech laced with static screamed from the radio's single speaker. Both humans jumped at the noise before turning their eyes, filled with alarm, onto each other.

They blanched.

"They're here…" Janine breathed.

"We gotta find Seth and Claire." Joseph said hastily and the shot out the door.

* * *

"Maggie, stay close to me," Claire called out to the young girl as she darted down an aisle towards the back of the abandoned Wal-Mart, "We don't want you to get lost in here."

"I was gonna look for a hat," Maggie protested, looking back towards her mother, "For the baby."

Claire suppressed a grin, keeping her face stern as she said, "No honey. We'll look for a hat after we find some food, okay?"

"Ooookaaaaaay…" Maggie conceded unhappily as she ambled back to her mother as a lagging pace. Claire took her daughter's hand in her and they walked down the way Seth had traveled.

The inside of the Wal-Mart was dark; the only light coming in was from the holes in the ceiling where the vents had collapsed inwards, taking a suitable amount of roofing with it. Farther towards the back of the building however was a gaping hole where the wall had appeared to have collapsed.

There was a faint, unpleasant smell of rotting meat and other perishable items and it grew stronger the farther they walked. Maggie pulled her dirty shirt over her nose, "It's stinky in here."

Claire pinched her own nose in an attempt from having to smell it, and looked around, "Yeah it is. Maybe we can find some air fresheners."

"We'd need a gazillion to make it not stink," Maggie replied. Claire laughed.

"Really? That many, huh?" She asked in pretend astonishment.

"Uh-huh," Maggie nodded.

"Hey girls! Over here!" Seth's voice called out to them from a few aisles down, echoing slightly in the large space. "I found the canned stuff!"

Both girls gazed ahead of them towards their companion's voice. Claire squeezed her daughter's hand and said, "C'mon, sweetie."

As they made their way down the aisle, they heard a sharp _crack _and Seth cry out in surprise just before a jarring, near deafening crash split the air, rattling the floor beneath them. Claire felt a shot of something run through her and she gasped, hurrying forward, pulling the little girl behind her. "Seth!"

When they reached the aisle, they saw that the large shelves that made up the aisle had toppled over. Seth was no where to be seen,

"Seth! Seth!" Claire called and felt her heart hammering in her throat. "Are you alright?"

There was a faint groan from under the shelves, some shuffling, then, "I…*cough* over here, Claire. Under it…*cough*. Ah shit…fuck."

Claire ignored the cussing; deciding if there was any proper time and place to curse this qualified. She pushed Maggie back a few steps, "Stay there, honey." She walked over to the fallen Shelf and slowly lowered herself to the floor. Bending as much as her extended stomach would allow, she gazed under it through the small gap. She barely made out a shadow farther in.

"Seth, are you OK? Are you hurt?" She asked worriedly.

"My leg," Seth moaned, sounding as though he were in great pain. "It hurts….I—I think I'm pinned, Claire. Agh….uh….shit…"

Claire tried to suppress the growing panic. "I…uh…oh god, I dunno what to do!"

"Find something to get this off of me…like a lever or something, a crow bar…" Seth answered and groaned. "Or go get Joseph and Janine!"

Claire stammered and rose to her feet. "Oh, OK…yeah, I can do that. Maggie," she turned to her daughter who stood a few feet away watching the seen with frightened eyes, "Stay here with Seth, OK? I'm gonna go get the others, OK? Can you do that for me, Baby?"

"Uh-huh," Maggie nodded, but it was clear from her eyes she was scared. Claire gave her child a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before rising completely to her feet and hurrying as fast as she could out the entrance.

Maggie watched her Mother leave before turning to the cave like structure that had been created between the floor and shelves. Lowering to her knees, Maggie peered inside and saw the shadowy blob that was Seth.

"Seth?" She called, voice scratchy and fearful, "You're gonna be okay, OK? Mommy's getting Joey and Janine, OK?"

The blob shifted slightly and Seth's voice, stiff with reserved discomfort, replied, "OK, kiddo. Just stay with me. You gotta protect me till she gets back, OK?"

Seth seemed to be saying those things more for Maggie's sake then his own.

"OK." Maggie replied and gulped nervously as she waited for her mother to return.

* * *

Through the large gapping hole in the back of the human fuel distribution center, Mirage watched the shelf topple over onto the thin red haired human called 'Seth'. Mirage struggled to keep himself hidden instead of rushing to the trapped human's aid. The two females rushed to him, but it was obvious they could do nothing for their companion. The elder female toddled back to the entrance, presumably to fetch the others. The young female remained behind was seemed to be telling the trapped male comforting convictions. He listened to their soft voices as they spoke to each other.

"Does it hurt bad?" The little one asked, voice shaking oddly.

"Not too bad," Came the muffled reply, "Not as bad as a shot. Those hurt."

The little female laughed, though there didn't seemed to be much substance to it. "Yeah, shots hurt a lot. Mommy's gonna be back soon OK? Joey will rescue you and then we can eat."

Seth's voice replied, stiff with pain, "That's great, Maggie. We're gonna have to do something special for you, for being such a brave girl huh?"

"…Uh-huh…" Mirage then heard a strange strangled sort of chocking noise; it sent a sharp pain through his spark to hear it. It was the sound of a crying child. The young female had broken into sobs and every little whimper sent agonizing regret through him. He remembered still, how wrenching it was to have witnessed the moment Spike realized his parents were dead. Even though the little girl's cries were not as saturated with grief, the mere act brought the memory to surface and Mirage could not help but feel horrible.

He'd been through _war_, death, destruction, and so much more. And yet the one thing that seemed to strike him hardest was the mournful sobs of immature organic bipeds. Primus had a strange sense of humor.

"Don't cry Maggie," Seth's voice called out in an attempt to sooth the child, "I'm OK. It's gonna be alright, you hear me?"

"I'm scared…"

That was it. He couldn't sit back and do nothing. Mirage got to his feet; his mirror coating still activated, and he carefully slid through the hole in the wall. Once inside, he straightened himself and began carefully walking through the building, making his way towards the humans. When he was barely 4 meters away, his foot knocked against a display and it toppled over. The little human girl jerked up from where she was sitting on the floor to gaze up, startled, at open air. Mirage stared at the child and carefully lowered himself to one knee, and lowered his mirror shield. He reappeared into the visual world and he watched as the girl's eyes widened in terror.

She screamed, the high pitch causing Mirage to wince.

"Maggie!" Seth's voice called out urgently, "_Maggie_? What wrong?"

The little girl scrambled away gracelessly, but Mirage reached out and gingerly picked her up, fingers deftly cupping her small form. She began to cry. Whether because the male had seen him or just had a lucky guess, the shelf pinning Seth began to rattle as the human underneath thrashed, desperately trying to free himself and presumably come to the child's aid. His voice, furious, cried out, "Leave her alone you _son of a bitch_!"

Mirage ignored the angry yells and looked to the child shivering and crying in his cupped hands. He smiled at her. "Don't be frightened little one, I'm mean you no harm."

She didn't seem convinced, but he defiantly had her attention any case. "I'm only trying to help."

Seth's voice barked at him, "You bastard! She's only a kid! Let her go! _I'll kill you if you hurt her_!"

Mirage turned to frown at the toppled shelf. "I do not intend to harm either of you. If you'll calm down I will gladly help, but if you insist on thrashing and cursing (in front of a child I might ad, which as I understand is highly discouraged) then you will remained under there."

To demonstrate his explanation of his intent, he lowered the child to the floor and she hoped off, scrambling away to stand near the shelf her large expressive eyes gawking at him. Her small cheeks were moist with tears and her breathing hitched with choked sobs.

"Maggie! Are you OK?" Seth's asked, his voice having not lost any of the desperation. "Are you hurt?"

"No…I'm OK…" 'Maggie' replied meekly.

Mirage smiled at the child. "Will you help me free your friend?" He asked. After a moment, the little girl gave a small, hesitant, nod. "Alright then, _Maggie_ wasn't it?"

Another nod.

Mirage shifted and rose to his feet, taking a step forward before bending down. He grabbed onto the shelf and looked at Maggie who seemed to be gapping at him, more out of awe then fear he was pleased to note. "Alright, when I lift the shelf, I need you to make sure nothing falls, OK?"

Maggie nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Good girl," He said. Tightening his grip, he lifted the shelf. It was heavier then he thought it would be and a worried notion of the trapped human's injuries went through his mind. Maggie peered into the gap. "N-nothing's falling."

"Alright," Mirage said and lifted the shelf, carefully watching for bends in the metal incase the strain caused it to snap and potentially crush the trapped human below. With one final push the shelf was tossed away. Mirage looked back to see the human Seth laying on the floor, small aluminum cans scattered all around him. His forehead was bleeding and his leg bent awkwardly. Mirage mentally cringed at the sight of the fracture.

Maggie was already by Seth's side, crying at the state of her friend. Seth's eyes caught onto the Mech and he grabbed onto Maggie, pulling her close, even in his sorry state trying to scramble away. "Stay away from us!"

Mirage frowned. "I told you, I'm not here to hurt you."

Seth glared at him, "If that's true then you can just turn and go! We don't need your help!"

Mirage glanced idly at the broken appendage and sent the young man an incredulous look. "I bed to differ. You have sustained a debilitating injury along with possible cranial damage. I know someone who could possibly help repair—"

"Like hell! So you can lead us to your friends and then kill us?"

Mirage's frown turned angry. "We aren't here to kill you. We are not Decepticons. "

Seth's angry glare faltered as he attempted to process the unfamiliar word. "Decepti-_whats_?"

"Decepti_cons_," Mirage repeated firmly. "They are the ones who have been ravaging your cities. My comrades and I have been trying to stop them, but while we outnumber them by a good few, they are better…equipped for combat and much more experienced. Most of our forces consist of scientists and engineers. Our strike force is nothing compared to their's."

"Why should we believe any of that?" Seth asked, still clutching Maggie close to him.

"Because it is the truth," Mirage replied simply, "If you choose not to believe it as such, that is your choice. I cannot force you to accept my aid, but you and your companions are welcome to it. "

Seth's eyes narrowed. "What can—"

Before Seth could finish his sentence, Mirage cried out, more in surprise then pain, as _something_ hit him in the back in between the armor of his shoulder and forearm. His hand reached around to grope the area. He turned around to see another human male, pointing a shotgun at him. Behind him, taking refuge behind a counter were the two other females.

"Get away from them!" He ordered, voice demanding and intimidating despite coming from such a small being.

"You're companion has sustained a fracture of his internal body's structural supports," Mirage replied with a wince. He resisted the urge to sigh when he saw the dumbfounded expression of the elder male's face.

"His leg has been broken," Mirage translated.

From below and behind him, the injured human snarled, "No shit Sherlock!"

The human jerked as Mirage peered down at him with an unamused frown. "You should no use such language in the presence of younglings."

"I said get away!"

Mirage turned to stare at the man with the gun and opened his mouth to reply when Maggie suddenly ran out in font of him.

"Maggie move!" The male roared.

"Maggie!" The child's mother cried, motioning for the girl to come to her.

"No!" She said, pressing her back against Mirage's leg and spreading her arms out as if to shield him. "He's a _good_ robot! He helped Seth!"

The other male lowered the gun a little to peer over at the other male. "Seth?"

"Uh…kinda," Seth replied not sounding convinced that Mirage could be trusted, "He says he's not one of the bad robots."

"The ones who mean your people harm are called 'Decepticons'," Mirage added in. The elder male jumped when he spoke and re-aimed his gun at Mirage.

"And what would that make _you_?" He asked incredulously.

"I am an Autobot," He replied, pointing to the red faced insignia on his chest. "My name is Mirage."

The human stared at the red symbol, the anger and fear in his eyes faltering for a moment. Something crossed the man's face, but was undecipherable.

"He said he wants to help," Maggie said. "He knows people who can help Seth, 'cause he got hurt."

"Maggie get over here!" The male barked. Mirage looked down at the little girl and, ever so gently, nudged her forward with his foot. She started at the small push, looking back up at him. Mirage smiled and nodded down at her and the girl reluctantly made her way towards her eager mother who took the child tightly in her arms.

Mirage turned his attention back to the armed male.

"We don't want any trouble," The male said, his voice tight. He sounded stern and unafraid, but Mirage could see it in his eyes. He was terrified. There was an almost unnoticeable tremor in his hands and his feet shifted ever so slightly in a sort of nervous twitch. "We'll just get our stuff and leave. We don't want any trouble."

Mirage couldn't keep himself from frowning in disappointment. He didn't want them to go. They needed help. The small group looked dirty, tired, fragile, and barley hanging on. The two adult females cowered behind a counter, hugging the smaller human between them protectively while one of the males had a seriously impairing injury. If he just let them leave, they would easily be picked off by the Decepticons. How they had survived this long seemed to be a small miracle. Red Alert seemed to have been right when he said that no human here would ever accept their help. But Mirage was determined to prove him wrong. These people needed help, whether they knew it or not. Whether they wanted it or not.

Mirage looked around him and down at the injured man, who gazed back up at the Mech with a myriad of emotion ranging from contempt to fear, all seeping through the layers of pain caused by his injury. He knew a little about human physiology from Wheeljack and Bumblebee who had scoured the internet for information to help them care for Spike while Mirage had drabbled in the gathered data out of mere curiosity. Diving into his memory banks, he scoured the stored information and found what he wanted. Turning around fully, Mirage bent down and gently scooped the human up, much to the little creature's fright.

Seth yelled and slammed his fists against his hand in protest while the other human's cries and yells coming in a background noise, leaping back and cringing. Mirage adjusted himself and sat cross-legged on the floor. He cradled Seth him his hands, very careful of the injury. He looked towards the other male and saw he had put down his shot gun and was hold his hands up.

"Please," He said, outright fear commandeering his voice, "Don't hurt him, he's just a kid. He's done nothing wrong…."

Mirage ignored his concern and looked over at the females.

"Go find some wood or metal," He told them, "We need to split his leg."

The humans all seemed to stop breathing at the same time, air catching in their throats; their faces froze in a strange expression, completely flabbergasted. Even Seth seemed taken aback and he stopped beating his hands against Mirage's.

The Mech couldn't help but smile.

"There should be plenty of cloth to secure the split," Mirage added. He eyed them expectantly, "Well?"

Maggie was the first to recover, bounding out of her mother's arms, crying a cheerful, "OK!" and running into the store to find something to use as a splint. Her mother and the other paler colored female both staggered to their feet and rushed off after the child. The older male stood where he was, his shock still lingering.

He and Mirage looked at each other for a long moment, staring each other down. "You should find something for him to bite down on," Mirage advised, "This will likely be very painful without any sedative to numb him."

He snapped out of his daze and nodded. "…Right," he said and ran off to find something.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: Been a while since my last update eh? Well, I'm afraid I still cannot guarantee any kind of consistency with my updates, but in any case here is a good sized update for all you patient people who I adore.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

The English countryside was vast and more or less featureless, with rolling hills of green and sparingly place shrubbery. Its steeply curved hills with dips and raises provided ample cover for the Autobots as they rested and recovered, administering much needed repairs and refuelings. The last clash with Decepticon armed forces had been across the Channel in France, and although the Autobots had claimed a suitable victory, successfully pushing the Decepticons from the country and into Germany, it had left them with many wounded which were then transported back to England. The front lines were being secured by a mixture of UN and NATO forces, armed with improved weapons of Cybertronian design, and various Autobots. Optimus had been adamantly against having the humans fight in the beginning let alone provide them with weapons, but after some much protest from the various countries and several gains by the Decepticon campaign, Optimus reluctantly agreed.

It had been set up so that each Autobot stationed on the front lines was to be paired with one unit of humans. So far, it appeared to be a very effective system. Humans knew the lay out of the land far better then any of the Autobots and could move across it with ease while the Autobots had better monitoring capabilities and sensitive sensors. The combination of the two had been key in the recent string of victories. But casualties had been many. Human medics and nurses rushed to mend the wounded while soldiers and volunteers from near by towns took up the arduous task of burry the dead. The field the Autobot occupied as temporary base or HQ was hardly the ideal location, but it was better then the front lines.

Optimus Prime stood atop a hill, gazing around him and marveling at the world around him. Many of his warriors often complained of the 'organic waste land' but it was hardly a waste land at all. The native creatures thrived here amongst the abundant greenery and vast space. There was no civilization to spoil the natural beauty of the planet they were so desperately trying to save.

His musings were interrupted by the soft rev of a Mech's engine, the Cybertronian equivalent to a human clearing their throat. Turning to glance over his shoulder, Optimus spotted Prowl behind him, carrying a data pad and two data disks.

"Sir," Prowl said, "We received a reply from Ultra Magnus and a contact notice from Jazz."

Optimus turned all the way around to face the tactician with pleasant surprise. "Magnus sent a reply to our request?"

Prowl nodded gravely. "Yes sir. It was coded and label urgent."

Optimus felt a bubble of unease rise and he put out his hand. "Let me see the message, Prowl."

The black and white Mech obediently handed over the data pad and disks. Prime selected the message from Ultra Magnus and slipped it into the data pad. As he began to read the message, his optics grew more and more narrow and it took all his will power not to simply crush the data pad in his hands. Finally, with great self control, he lowered the data pad and looked to Prowl. The tactician stiffened, ready to receive the news he knew was coming…

"It seems as though our reinforcement request is being granted," He said slowly, a grim tone coloring his voice, causing Prowl's mind to pause, and then added, "But at a great cost."

Prowl was hesitant to ask, even though he already knew. "How so?"

"The Autobot Hub on Cybertron has been over run. Ultra Magnus and those who escaped the siege are on a stolen cargo vessel heading for Earth as we speak; estimated time of arrival, two earth weeks."

Prowl nodded solemnly and a long, awkward silence fell between the two.

"It was inevitable, sir. We knew the Hub would fall."

"Maybe so," Optimus replied forlornly, "But we could have prevented it. If only he had listened…"

"What are your order's sir?" Prowl asked, his tone returning to the no-nonsense canter that characterized him.

"Inform the troops and send word to Home Base," Optimus Prime replied, his own voice ringing with authority. "If we wish to regain Cybertron we must liberate Earth. Even if it means we must abandon it for the time being. With Ultra Magnus's help, I have confidence we will be able to accomplish this in far less time then with our current unit."

"And what of Jazz's contact?" Prowl said, as if to remind the Prime he still had one more message to view.

Optimus allowed a light chuckled bubble up from under the devastating news of the loss of the Hub and removed the disk from the data pad, slipping in Jazz's. The Autobot commander read in silence and didn't say anything for a long moment.

Prowl's wing panels twitched anxiously.

"Sir?" Prowl prompted. "Is there something wrong?"

"No Prowl," Optimus replied with a smile in his voice, "Everything is fine. Jazz is requesting clearance to fortify home base…using _recycled materials_ from the _abandoned human settlement_ it appears."

At the news, Prowl's concern evaporated and he scoffed, "Jazz always did enjoy doing things his _own way._"

Optimus Prime chuckled at his second in command handed him the data pad.

"You're beginning to sound like Red Alert," Optimus teased.

Prowl took the data pad frowned at his superior, "I resent that comparison."

* * *

The sun had already set by the time they reached the Ark. The humans laboring behind him were a growing concern, but Mirage was certain they would be fine with a little rest. He carried the injured one, Seth, in his hands, ever careful of the newly splinted leg. The young man had indignantly refused to be carried around, but Mirage didn't listen and ignored the young man's heated words and attempts to be released. He had stopped complaining little over a breem after they left the town, seeming to have exhausted his low energy reserves. Joseph had reluctantly agreed to Mirage's offer of aid and the blue and white Mech was now leading the small legion to the Ark. The humans seemed convinced, at least somewhat, that he meant them no harm, but still they fidgeted or twitched or jumped whenever he spoke or made a sudden movement. The only human who did not react this way was Maggie who seemed absolutely inquisitive about him.

The trip had taken much longer then if he was alone and he had used his vehicle mode, but he did not want to rush them. He did urge them on when they tired, the steep hills draining what little strength they had, and they seemed determined as anything to press on, the enticement of a warm place to sleep and food pushing them forward. However, there were moments when they seemed to wonder if their primal needs were blinding them and they were walking into a trap. Mirage marveled at how such primitive urges could keep them going so long. Once, the black skinned female stopped and called Maggie to her.

"How do we know this isn't just some trap?" She asked. "How do we know you don't plan to kill us or something?"

Mirage turned and studied the woman, noting her high stress levels and her rapidly beating heart. "I cannot think of anything else to which would prove my sincerity. Only my word. I will not harm you, nor will my fellows. I speak the truth. However if you are that skeptical of my intentions, you are free to refuse my aid and leave if that is what you wish. I have no right to stop you."

She stayed there for a long moment as she pondered her choice, her small dark eyes never wavering from Mirage's face as if trying to discern some hidden truth from his optics. He kept his facial features neutral. Finally, the female gave a resigned sigh and trenched forward up the hill. And they moved onwards.

When they reached the top of the hill, just out of sight of the Ark, Mirage carefully sat Seth to the ground while Janine came forward to help ease the wounded man's leg onto the ground. Joseph helped Claire into a sitting position to rest, pulling out a small bottle of water for her to drink from, and Maggie plopped down beside her. When Seth was safely deposited to the ground, Janine took the opportunity to look over the split and Mirage addressed the group in a quiet voice.

"Our base is just over this hill, but I would like to speak with my superior before we proceed," He said, "Please wait here until I return."

Maggie broke away from her mother and scampered up to him, "I wanna go too!"

"Maggie," Her mother chastised, out of breath and waving tiredly for her daughter to come back to her, "Stop pestering him."

Mirage lowered himself to one knee. "She is welcome to come if you allow it, Claire."

Claire looked startled for a moment and very hesitant, so smiling, he added, "I may be able to plead my case with more success if she is there. Jazz is known to be very…lenient, especial where younglings are involved."

With a sigh, she grudgingly nodded. Maggie giggled excitedly and hoped up and down and Claire rushed to add, "Be good though and mind your manners."

"Yes ma'am," Maggie replied cheerfully. Mirage set down his hand and allowed the child to clamber on.

As he rose to his feet, Claire gave her own demands of him, "You better be careful with her now. If she starts to get scared get her out of there that instant, you hear me?"

Mirage stared at the woman for a moment, the sheer dominance her voice portrayed taking him by surprise, and quickly nodded, "Yes ma'am."

Mirage thought he heard the others snicker, but they quickly hushed up when he glanced at them.

* * *

Night had just taken over the sky, speckling the inky darkness with bright blips of brilliant light. It was really the only thing that was really recognizable to him, although the constellations were different then the ones back home. When it was quiet and cold he looked up and he could vividly imagine that he was back on Cybertron.

His musings were interrupted when he heard someone call out to him.

"Day-dreaming during sentry duty, are we?" The large black Mech jumped and looked to see Mirage approaching the Ark. The spy smiled, adding, "And at night, nevertheless?"

Trailbreaker glanced at him with an unamused look, but stopped short of replying when he caught sight of what the spy held, cupped in his hands. A small human, dark skin, dressed in dirty pants and what was possible once a clean yellow shirt. Her fuzzy hair was jet black, pulled to either side of her head and tied down with little bands. When he looked down at her, the little human smiled cheerfully at him.

Trailbreaker looked up at Mirage and sighed. "Not you too…"

"I need to talk with Jazz," Mirage said as if he never heard him, "I came across a group of humans refugees down in town."

"Of course you did," Trailbreaker said sardonically. He glanced back down at the human child to see she was still smiling cheerfully up at him. "So who's this then?"

"I'm Maggie," She replied bubbly. Trailbreaker found himself smiling despite himself. "What's your name?"

"Trailbreaker," He answered. "S'wear are the rest of 'em?"

"Just at the edge of the hill," Mirage replied, "I had them wait there for me. One of them is injured and one of the females is expecting to give birth any day. Maggie wished to come and help me convince Jazz to let 'em stay. At least for a while."

Trailbreaker laughed at that and shrugged. "Hey, it worked for Bee. Why not?"

"That is what I was thinking," Mirage added.

"Well he should be in his office," Trailbreaker said, pointing behind him with his thumb.

"Thank you Trailbreaker," Mirage said as he pasted the sentry. From the Mech's hands, Maggie waved and said a cheerful "Thank you!"

Trailbreaker watched as they entered the base and shook his head. "Red's gonna _loooove_ this."

* * *

Jazz sat back in his chair and went over the various patrol reports, most of which had nothing _to_ report and the saboteur decided he did not envy Prowl. How did that Mech do all of this tediously arduous work for so long? How had his processor not melted into slag? He had received Red Alert's suggestions for the new security upgrade as well as a basic outline. It called for a fortified wall surrounding the immediate area of the Ark where designated weapons would be installed every 2.5 giga-yards, roughly 100 feet. Jazz still had yet to receive any approval from Prime but he decided it couldn't hurt to go on ahead with the basics. Construction wouldn't begin for a while yet, approval or not.

The recent victories in Europe had lifted moral some, but the events of the last week were still fresh in his mind and it was hard to share in the celebration. His processor heated with ire whenever his thoughts lingered for too long on the subject. Spike's parents had not just been killed, they had been _mutilated_. Tortured. The wounds inflicted suggested more then a simple kill. There was anger behind it. Revenge maybe. Ravage had taken his time in methodically decimating the bodies and it made the saboteur shudder to wonder if the poor creatures had still bee functional when the horrors had been done.

Something had to be done to quell this…genocide.

Had they the resources to do so, Jazz would order the Mechs under his immediate command to scour the country looking for these refineries and lay siege to the blasted places. But he knew such an action wouldn't be possible and even then it would be irresponsible. Such recklessness would not save the humans. There had to be a way to free them. Jazz made a mental note to give Cosmos a new assignment next time the satellite-Mech orbited around to their air space.

His attention was diverted however when the door to the office slid open and Mirage stepped inside. The blue and white Mech resembled Prowl much in the way of expression. Most of the time the Mech was placid and neutral, giving his opinions when appropriate, and never wasted his words just as the black and white tactician. Jazz smiled as he entered, but the smile faded abruptly.

His spark froze when he caught sight of the little creature cupped in Mirage's hands and a distinct feeling of '_not again_' filtered through him. Seeing the abrupt change in his captain's facial features, Mirage hastened to explain himself. He did not need to ask what the Mech was thinking, he had a good idea what conclusions he was leaping to. "Jazz, do not worry. It is not what you are thinking."

Jazz seemed to relax a bit and a small smile returned to his face-plate. "Well that's good then. I didn't think we could handle any more bad news."

Mirage nodded and stepped further into the room, depositing the small human child on the desk. The child wobbled a bit as she stood, but Mirage carefully steadied her with one hand. "This is Maggie."

The little human smiled cheerfully up at the visored Mech and in sweet voice said, "Hello Mr. Robot."

Jazz's smile widened into a grin and he leaned forward closer to her level. "Hey there yourself little lady. You can call me Jazz."

Maggie beamed and nodded, "Ok."

Jazz glanced up at Mirage, seeming more tired then before, "So what's the story behind this one, then?"

"I was taking a survey of the city in preparation for construction and I came across a group of humans."

Jazz's interest peaked. "A _group_?"

"Yes. There are five of them all together; two males and three females, including Maggie," Mirage elaborated, "I had them wait outside for me until I had spoken with you. One of the males is injured and they are very…jumpy. They almost did not trust me enough to come. It took some persuading."

Jazz didn't need to hear anymore. He quickly got up from his seat and walked around the desk, quickly scooping the little girl up and he gestured to the door, "Lead the way, then."

Mirage couldn't suppress his pleasure as a smile crept to his face and he nodded before following along eagerly.

* * *

Janine felt like she was about to faint when she saw a gargantuan black robot approach them. Long enforced fear of the robots still had a hard grip on her and she wasn't exactly sure how they all came to trust, even a little, the blue and white Mech that called himself Mirage. She gripped onto Claire's hands while at the same time trying to shield Seth as he lay prone on the ground. She was a paltry defense, but in his injured state, Seth wasn't much help to himself either. Joseph leaped to his feet as the robot stood before them and took place in front of the group, eyeing the metal giant.

The display of aggression was enough to freeze the Mech in his tracks. Blue robotic eyes hovered over the group, taking in the sight of their pitiful condition.

"You don't need to be scared of me," the giant said with a smile, holding his hands aloft in mock surrender. "I'm not gonna hurt you guys."

"What do you want?" Joseph asked after a tense moment of silence, his voice was terse, but worn and tired.

The giant's 'eyebrow' rose quizzically at the question. "Nothing," he said simply, "Just checking up on you. Mirage said one of you was injured."

Seth raised his arm feebly in the air and said in a tired, miserable, voice, "That'd be me."

Pain and exhaustion seemed to have drained any fight the young man had in him and he had taken to playing the role of the group gimp. Janine looked over the make shift split once more with growing concern. Her attention turned back to the robot as it slowly lowered itself to its knees, eyes focused on Seth. "The injuries aren't life threatening are they?"

The group blinked up at him with surprise.

"N-no," Janine answered, unable to quell the quiver in her voice, "His leg was broken, but it's not life t-threatening."

She felt a shiver run through her when the robot glanced her way, trying to keep herself calm. Janine watched the black robot's face as his mechanical eyes trailed over to look at Seth's bandaged leg and she was taken aback when she saw his 'eyebrows' crease in what she interpreted to be a look of…concern?

"Does it hurt?" He asked the man.

Seth laughed mirthlessly, hand gripping the dirt as if trying to rebuke the pain he was in, "Like hell. Have _you_ ever had your leg snap in half like a twig?"

"No," was the flat answer, "I did have it blown off once though."

Seth blinked and propped himself up on his elbows, wincing a little, to stare at the robot with a quizzical, if not skeptical, look.

The robot nodded and then waved his hand in gesture, "When I was younger of course. Stepped on a smelter shell. Blew everything from the middle thigh down to scrap and torn a hole through the other. I spent the next fifteen orns strapped to a medical berth. Hurt like slag too."

As he spoke, the large black robot gestured to his leg, making a line across his right thigh. All the humans watched and listened, their fear momentarily forgotten as their minds tried to imagine having their legs blown off.

"…what's an _orn_?" Janine asked quietly, looking around her at the others instead of directing the query to the robot. Joseph and Claire just shrugged.

The robot's eyes fluttered strangely and for no reason at all, Janine had the impression he was blinking. "An orn? It's uh…well…oh, I can never remember the earth time keeping system. An orn is…13 earth days, roughly. I think. I'd have to double check with Jazz, but I'm pretty sure it's 13."

Seth counted on his fingers running through the multiplication table in his mind, "So…fifteen orns would be…uh…" He shook his head after a moment. "…I dunno."

Janine suppressed a laugh and said, "A little over six months."

The red haired man frowned.

"I hate math," Seth grumbled. "Failed it twice in high school. My teacher was a real prick too."

The robot suddenly laughed causing the group of humans to all jump and look at him anxiously as the loud sudden noise echoed through the nights.

* * *

Wheeljack stood to the side of the Medbay as Jazz and Mirage herded the small group of humans inside. They stood close to one another, the two adult female clinging to each other while the uninjured male held the little girl in his arms tightly. Mirage carefully held the injured human in his hands, walking to the nearest table and setting the man down, careful of his leg.

"Is this all of them?" Wheeljack asked, flinching a little when the group of humans all snapped around to stare at him, apparently having not seen him as they entered. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you all."

Jazz laughed, waving at the Mech dismissively, "Nah, their just a bit jumpy; rough day and all y'know. Give 'em some food and rest an' they'll be cool."

"I have some towels and polishing cloths they could use for bedding," Wheeljack offered speculatively, "Spike has that little sleeping pad thing. One of you could use that too. I don't think he'd mind donating it."

The older male who seemed to be their leader, lowered the little girl to the ground and addressed Wheeljack hesitantly, "T-thank you…for your help."

"Think nothing of it," Wheeljack replied, trying to convey some form of cheerfulness to the group. They looked absolutely _broken_. Their clothes were filthy and their arms and legs were marred with sun burns, healing scabs, bruises, and a myriad of other minor injuries that were but a small indication to the hardships they had suffered. "It's about time we started doing something _useful_ around here."

"Just don't tell Red Alert," Mirage grumbled.

"…he doesn't know they're here?" asked Wheeljack incredulously.

"No," Mirage replied flatly, "And there isn't a thing he can do about it. We can't turn them away now."

"A_-a-a-alighty_ then," Jazz interjected before anything escalated, "Why don't we go and get these folks some nourishment then huh? Leave Red to me guys; I'll smooth his feathers out later. Might wanna go find Bumblebee and Spike. Maybe one of these nice folk can get the kid cheered up some, huh?"

Wheeljack suddenly brightened and turned to the humans who had all been watching the three giants banter. "Would you all be willing to?"

"To what?" The thin blind female asked, unsure of their intentions.

"We've been looking after a human child one of our friends found a little over a month ago," He explained, "And we just recently found his parent's mortal remains. He took it pretty hard and hasn't been eating very much. We were hoping maybe you might be able to fix that, try something we haven't thought of perhaps."

The group carried a collective look of mild shock. The thin blond female stepped up, a newfound resolve brought on by her maternal instincts forming in her. "How old is he?"

"Four year old," Jazz replied, recalling the day he'd first met the frightened little boy. He hoped these folks could help him. Even just a little…

"Four years…" The woman breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. "So young…"

"Poor little guy," the leader added, equally melancholy.

"Will you help him?" Jazz asked, crouching down to the blond female's level, but kept his distance, not wanting to frighten her.

"Of course we will," she replied, surprising him a little at her conviction.

"Bumblebee will be glad to hear that," Wheeljack said in relief.

* * *


End file.
